


roots in my dreamland

by seasalttears



Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: F/F, and judy is a badass bisexual chief of staff, essentially the plot is this:, everybody needs a very long nap, jen is a repressed useless lesbian president, okay so um, political and personal shenanigans ensue, this is a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:27:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 54,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28056120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasalttears/pseuds/seasalttears
Summary: “Judy? You’re my Chief of Staff, correct?”“Yes.”“And you were told that the President of the United States wanted you in the Oval Office, yet you were late because you wanted to make sure you got your espresso?”the west wing au
Relationships: Judy Hale/Jen Harding
Comments: 52
Kudos: 111





	1. term one, year two

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this is so close to being a west wing crossover but i promise it's not, i just couldn't leave cj cregg out of it because she is the Love of my Life. do you need to know anything about cj or american politics or the west wing to read this? absolutely not! it's called *creative exposition*

Sometimes Jen wakes up and still doesn’t believe it: here, in this house, it’s all up to her. One fateful political science class in the span of her four years in college, and now she’s living in a house she only ever saw on television screens. Jen has always groaned and begrudged the state of the world, wishing things could just be better. It wasn’t until her and Judy were drinking wine and distractedly watching _The Facts of Life_ one night—Ted and baby Charlie asleep upstairs—that Judy snapped her into benediction.

_There is so much horrible shit constantly happening and I just wish someone in our grand ole democratic republic would actually do something about it._

_I doubt the ones already there ever will, but you could._

_What?_

_You want to see a difference? Then do something about it, Jen._

The following years of their friendship were stamped with campaigns and elections and late-night conversations lit only by the lamp on Jen’s desk. Municipal to state to federal, that was Judy’s plan. Jen was doubtful the entire way, always second guessing herself until she stepped onto any stage to announce a candidacy, somehow finding the confidence within herself to make it seem like she knew what she was doing. City Council for Laguna for four years until Charlie began pre-school, and in her six-year stint as mayor she managed budgets around a second pregnancy and the start to a dwindling marriage.

When she became Governor of California things started to get a little better between her and Ted, and Jen suspected it had something to do with her ability to prove to him politics wasn’t a hobby and she wasn’t spending so much time away from the family they built for nothing. She brought down mandatory minimums and she legalized marijuana and she passed a cleaner air act; she was doing good things and no amount of complaints from her husband could change the rush of joy she felt whenever she did something that mattered. When her term started to come to an end she considered telling Judy she was done, that she wasn’t built for anything more. Judy changed her mind with one wine glass and a grandiose speech of how amazing she thought Jen was, how capable. Jen would never admit it, but that was the first time she’d cried since she gave birth to Henry.

The election to make her Senator was more grueling than any other she and Judy had run, and it was filled with ibuprofen and whiskey and endless hands on thighs for moral support. Jen traveled all over California, promoting her agenda and promising to actually make a difference. The polls showed her lagging, and for the first time in her life Jen was afraid to lose. The fear she felt had evolved slowly over the years, and she was afraid of disappointing Judy more than anything. It wasn’t just her anymore, Judy had become one half of who she was in all of this. Jen knew she wouldn’t be where she was if Judy had never rear-ended her years before while Jen was dressed in a white gown, on the way to her wedding. Judy had offered to buy her a nice bottle of tequila while handing over her insurance information in repentance and Jen had said no, offering her an invitation to the reception instead. They had been thick as thieves ever since.

When election night came, they were surrounded by their campaign volunteers and refusing the glasses of wine they were offered every half hour. They wanted to be sober for this, no matter the outcome. Jen was grateful for it later when they announced her the underdog winner of an impossible race, because then she could remember the exact smile Judy had thrown her way before enveloping her in a bone crushing hug for everyone to see. They only let go of each other when Ted came over to kiss her in congratulations, tasting bittersweet. Jen was worried what would happen to them if she might win, feeling the beginnings of a deterioration and somehow knowing the half-life of their marriage had passed its mark; they were done before they barely started. He put on happy faces anyways, showing the world that their marriage was pristine and he couldn’t be happier for his wife.

The euphoria of working on a national stage was dampened by the threat of cancer, words ringing in her ears as she was flung back to a time when her mom was sick but still alive, hiding the pain away to try and save Jen from some. The doctor was confident, so Jen told herself she would be too. She had options and she would get through this, and she would never, ever let it affect the work she was doing. Surprisingly but also not, Judy was her first call after she sat down in her car and collapsed into tears, remnants of grief ripped from the chest that was her heart, kept under lock and key.

Jen told Ted when she got home later, and he hugged her tightly. She felt her body tense in his arms, unsure if the comfort he was providing was for her or for him. He said they would talk about it together, that they had options, but she told him she already knew what she wanted.

_Were you going to talk to me about this first?_

_What is there to talk about it? I’m not letting our kids lose their mom like I lost mine._

Ted could probably sense her verdict wasn’t changing, so he let it drop. But that night, and almost every night after, she could feel something different in the way he looked at her; something close to betrayal.

A statement was released to the press before she took three weeks off for the surgery, and twenty-two days later she was sitting back in her office to go over whatever she couldn’t bring home, and the next day she was on her usual flight to Washington D.C. for the weekly Congressional meeting. Ted kissed her goodbye, and Judy begged her not to go back so soon.

A year before her last day as Senator, Judy asked to meet in her office. It was not an unusual occurrence, Jen often called on her best friend for advice throughout the years because sometimes—not that Jen would ever admit it—Judy’s faith in the world’s ability to be good made her smarter than Jen. Judy was doing her own good work outside of the constraints of government, organizing nonprofits and hosting protests and advocating for all the things Jen tried to fix from the inside.

But when Judy sat across from her and asked for a glass of water, claiming a dry throat, Jen knew something was up.

_Judy, what is it?_

_Have you decided whether or not you’re going to run again?_

_I’m still thinking about it, there’s a lot to consider. I’ve missed so much of Charlie and Henry’s childhoods already and I think Ted is finally starting to resent me for it._

_This is your job, Jen. You’re making the world a better place, he can’t fault you for that._

_Oh, but he can._

_I think you should run._

_Judy, I need to think about it some more. Another four years in this office—_

_Not for Senator._

_What do you mean?_

_I think you should run for President of the United States._

Jen had laughed at first but when Judy didn’t join in, it morphed into incredulity. Jen recognized the look in Judy’s eyes as the same one all those years ago, when this whole thing first started. Jen should have thought about it, should have at least considered saying _no_ , but Jen doesn’t think she could ever tell Judy anything but _okay_.

The next year was quite possibly scarier than anything else Jen had ever done, putting everything on the line for something she never dared dream of. Between meetings and birthdays and primaries, life bitch slapped Jen in the face. Nothing in her career thus far could have prepared her for the whirlwind that came with running for President. She made sure to see the boys as often as she could, but Ted still refused to look her in the eye. She could count on two hands the amount of times he had touched her in the last four years outside of the required farse in front of cameras. Jen chose to ignore her crumbling marriage in favor of the relief changing the world brought. Time waited for no one and things never stopped occurring, and Jen told herself she couldn’t afford to waste the time she had been given.

Judy was her campaign manager because there was never another choice, and the search for the rest of the team proved difficult; she wasn’t the first woman to run for President and very few held faith in her. Eventually Judy managed to rein in the infamous Ana Perez to be her deputy, a feat if there ever was one. Her reputation of scaring men on the Hill and in the House preceded her, and Jen knew just as well as Judy that intimidation was something they were going to need. Nick Prager was next, a speech he wrote for a Representative at one of the Democratic National Conventions had moved Judy to tears. He only agreed if he could bring his assistant—Christopher Doyle—along with him. Jen was desperate at that point, unsure how to run a campaign when she never knew what the fuck to say at any given point, so she conceded. Christopher ended up being an asset though, his confident demeanor and quick mouth a reprieve on many a late night all across Pennsylvania and New Mexico and the Dakotas.

It was about halfway through the campaign and way too close to the primaries that Jen considered kissing Judy for the first time. Their publicity was poor and funding was low, polls showing they were still behind. She was placing third in all of them, and Jen let the doubt fully get to her for the first time since they started. She had hoped her run as Senator would boost her confidence and her numbers, but she learned too late that running for President was an entirely different ballpark.

_We need someone on this, Judy! We can’t keep going out there with no one to regulate all of this press and free media. People like what I stand for, but right now there is nothing about me that will keep them from voting for the other guys._

_Leave it to me, I have an idea._

Judy came to her one week later with a shit-eating grin on her face, and Jen had smiled cautiously, trying to get the news out of Judy for five minutes.

_I have a surprise._

_… what? Another poll?_

_No! A good surprise._

And that was when C.J. Cregg walked through the door, and it took everything Jen had to not pull Judy into her arms and plant a kiss right on her lips, the exhilaration coursing through her lowering the inhibitions she had kept at bay for most of her life. She stuck out her hand to shake C.J.’s instead, a wide smile on her face and the start of something like hope unfurling within her. It wasn’t until later that Jen remembered her instinct. That night was the first time in months she got into bed with her husband and loved him.

They won the candidacy—barely—and Jen felt both relieved and terrified. Some told her the hard part was over—she could take down the naïve republican the GOP put up against her in a bar fight, let alone a national debate—but Jen knew the hard part hadn’t happened yet. The hard part came if she won, because then she wouldn’t have polls and statistics and editorials and press conferences to worry about; instead she would have to worry about running a country.

Towards the end Jen knew her team was her secret weapon and the only reason she had gotten as far as she did. C.J. taught her to defend herself and teach a lesson while she was at it, Nick and Christopher showed her the right places to take pauses in a speech. Judy and Perez kept her under control, running the Hill with a determination Jen thought she could never muster. On election night she bought them all their drink of choice before they spent the rest of it pacing it in front of the dozens of televisions they had set up around their offices. Charlie and Henry made her promise to wake them up no matter the news, and Ted held her hand for a brief second before taking them home.

By 11:34 pm that night the news stations made the call and everyone around her erupted into chaotic cheers, but all Jen could do was look at her own face staring back on the television screen. She was going to be the next President.

Inauguration Day was something Jen was never supposed to forget for the rest of her life, but if she’s being honest, she can barely remember it. It all seemed to fly by her, from swearing in on a Bible she grudgingly agreed to, to shaking hands with people she still needs to memorize the names of, to slipping on a red velvet pantsuit fitted to her body. Nick and Christopher killed the speech, and when Ted and Charlie and Henry went out on stage to join her, she could just see Judy’s silhouette in the wings. She was wearing a long navy gown, cut to make everyone who saw her in it drop to their knees. For a fleeting moment, Jen wished Judy could have been on that stage with her instead of clapping in shadows.

The transition period was fortunately short, the country unrelenting in its commotion. Jen didn’t want to waste weeks learning protocols and floorplans and legislatures, and Jen got what she wished for when a bombing in Pakistan woke her and the rest of the staff up quickly. There were no options when it came to her Senior Staff; the people she wanted running the West Wing with her were the same people who stood beside her when she was on a small stage in Delaware freezing her ass off. They all had had to learn a lot, but they learned it quick, and when the Pakistan situation was resolved, Jen felt for the first time that she might actually be good at this running a country thing.

The one thing from that first year she knows will never leave her memories is when she asked Judy to be her Chief of Staff. They were out at dinner one night, Secret Service flanking the restaurant, and it was just the two of them. Jen was nervous, afraid that Judy might say no to a position that, granted, could do a lot of good but was also full of constraints.

_Judy, can I ask you something?_

_Anything._

_I was wondering if you wanted to come on board with me, be part of my Senior Staff._

_What would you need me for? I’ve never held a political office._

_Yes, but you’ve worked for politicians and you have tons of experience in policy. You didn’t go around yelling in the Capitol Building about animal rights for no reason._

_But I thought you appointed all the positions already._

_I haven’t appointed my Chief of Staff._

It took Judy four minutes to get the word _yes_ out of her mouth because she couldn’t stop crying long enough to get a word through. Jen cracked jokes about making a scene, but under the table she grabbed Judy’s hand and squeezed. Judy squeezed back and Jen knew then—she was finally ready.

.

Jen flies into the Oval Office with a pep in her step, last night having rewarded her with a full seven hours of sleep. It’s been a long time since she’s felt anywhere near rested, and if this is how the rest of the three years in office are going to be, she understands why people say this job ages you. 

The Senior Staff is already in the Oval, standing around waiting for the morning meeting before they break for the rest of the day. They stand when she enters and Jen doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the feeling of commanding a room with her mere presence; it gives her the confidence she’s been desperately trying to find the entire time she’s been in politics. Jen asks Nick to hand her their current draft of the State of the Union address and she skims it over, immediately crossing out the first joke she sees.

“Cut the first joke.” She sets the draft aside before reaching for one of the briefing books adorning her desk, glancing up to see Christopher pouting. “What?”

“Madam President, I’m just thinking that if you want to relate more to the American people—”

“I’m not saying _woke_ at the State of the Union and that’s final. Nick, you’re the Director of Communications, get a handle on your subordinate. And I relate to the American people _plenty_. Perez, how’s it going with healthcare reform?”

“I’ve arranged meetings with some people on the Hill today.”

“Great. C.J., have you been briefed on that new trade deal?”

“Yes, I’ll be going over it in this morning’s briefing. Also, I’m told there will be a story about Henry’s favorite bird in _People_ magazine and I thought you might like to know.”

Jen pauses in her search for her glasses and looks at C.J. skeptically. “Why is my son’s favorite bird newsworthy?”

“Your son has captured the hearts of the nation, Madam President. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Wonderful. Judy… wait. Where the hell is Judy?” Jen looks around but fails to find the woman in question, looking to the rest of the staff who shrugs their shoulders. Before Jen can say anything else, the door connecting the Oval to Judy’s office flies open. 

“I’m here! Sorry, the espresso machine was confusing and it took me a few minutes to figure it out.” Judy has the drink in question, looking slightly disheveled and out of breath. 

The rest of the staff is quiet in anticipation for Jen’s response, and she doesn’t think it’s been this quiet in the Oval since at least last Tuesday. Judy continues to stare at her, a smile on her face as she obliviously waits for the meeting to continue. “Judy? You’re my Chief of Staff, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you were told that the President of the United States wanted you in the Oval Office, yet you were late because you wanted to make sure you got your espresso?”

“Um, yes.”

“You are so damn lucky you’re my best friend.” Judy timidly smiles and Jen has to bite the inside of her cheek to prevent one of her own from breaking out on her face. “That’s all guys, thank you.”

The staff files out of her office while quietly bickering as they usually do, and Jen notices Judy hovering in the corner. Jen raises her eyebrow in question, waiting for Judy to say what’s on her mind. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go do what I pay you to do.”

“Well technically you don’t pay me, the taxpayers do—”

“Judes.”

“Going! I’m going.”

Judy rushes through the door leading to her office and leaves it cracked like she usually does, a firm reminder for Jen that she’s always there. Jen doesn’t try to hide her smile this time, letting it flood her face as she finally finds her glasses. She sits down, letting the peace wash over her and taking a deep breath. She opens the briefing and hopes it’s a good day as she begins to read, although knowing the country she knows that might be too much to hope for. 

Two hours later prove Jen’s suspicions correct as C.J. and Judy enter her office with grim looking faces. She doesn’t say anything, has learned to let her staff come to her; Judy and C.J. share a glance before looking back at Jen, and she knows immediately that whatever they tell her is going to ruin her day. 

“What is it?”

Jen focuses on C.J. as she starts explaining, words coming out of her mouth that Jen barely registers. She catches _traffic stop_ and _racial profiling_ and _three shots_ before she finds the strength to stand up and look out the window so she doesn’t start screaming instead. She can hear C.J. leave the room, probably after having a silent conversation with Judy, and Jen can feel Judy’s presence behind her, waiting. Jen clenches her fists that rest by her side, wishing she still smoked so she could have something to do with them. Her muscles are tense with the efforts of withholding her rage, and she knows Judy is waiting for its release, knows why it’s only the two of them in the room with all three doors firmly shut. 

“I want to do a press conference.”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

Jen quickly turns around, eyes flaring and arms held out to the side in frustration. “Why the hell not, Judy?”

“Because you are a red-hot inferno right now and that’s not a state you should be in when doing a press conference. You can address the nation in a few hours, I already have Christopher writing a statement for you to look over.”

Jen walks away from the window and leans against one of the chairs in the middle of the room, exhausted with pretending to be strong. “They are not going to get away with this, Judy. I am the President of the United fucking States and I say they are not going to get away with it. Call the damn press conference.”

Judy stays where she is and straightens her shoulders a little bit before responding, “No.”

Jen looks at her and furrows her brows. “What?”

“I said no.”

Jen takes a few steps closer to Judy, but she stands her ground even in the face of Jen’s anger. “Judy, you work for _me_ —”

“And my job is to make sure you don’t do anything stupid while running this country—”

“Is me condemning hate crimes _stupid_?”

“Of course not, Madam President, but there are procedures to this—”

“Somebody just got killed on my watch, call the _fucking_ press conference—”

“No!” Jen stops abruptly and Judy lets the silence wash over them before saying anything else. The sound of the clock on Jen’s desk ticks, a small signal to let them know how much time it takes for Jen’s rage to go from a boil to a simmer. “Jen, listen to me. I know you’re angry, but you need to wait, we need to be able to prepare. C.J. would tell you the same thing and she’s been doing this longer than both of us.”

Jen takes a step back and runs a hand over her face, cataloguing Judy’s use of her name instead of her title. One thing she learned the first year in office is that wars and budgets have nothing on the toll injustice takes on her. Foreign soil is one thing, but when it happens in the country she is tasked to protect, she feels like she’s failing in every possible way. “I know, you’re right. I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?”

“Making you my Chief of Staff at the White House?”

“Nice try.” Judy throws a small smile at her, and Jen knows it really is okay. Judy tells her something about the next briefing and the statement Christopher is writing, but she isn’t really listening. Judy is wearing a long floral dress today, shades of orange and gold splattered all over. A brown blazer hides the low cut, and Jen briefly wonders what Judy would look like without it. The thought catches her off guard but before she can analyze what it means, a knock sounds on the door as Abe sticks his head in; he tells them Christopher is waiting with the statement, and Jen waves him in. She takes the folder Christopher hands her and she looks over at Judy to throw her an apologetic smile, one returned in kind. 

Judy and Christopher leave a few minutes later and Jen sits back down at her desk. She lets her head fall into her hands and doesn’t look up until she sees a lollipop fall on the papers in front of her. She looks up to see Abe smiling down at her.

“You okay?”

“I’ll be fine, thanks Abe.” 

“You’re a good kid, don’t forget that.” He smiles warmly at her before going back to his desk, and Jen feels some of the weight on her shoulders disappear. 

After press statements and plans of action, Jen gets back to the Residence just in time to say goodnight to the boys. Ted isn’t home—something about a meeting and funding for the arts—so she climbs into bed alone and releases a breath, going back over the day in her mind. She wishes she was one of those people who could leave their problems on the other side of the door, using their personal space to decompress. Jen learned the hard way that when your private Residence and office are in the same building it’s hard to leave any of it behind. Jen could trace the map of her presidency so far, connecting failures to successes and circling around the crushing sense that she’s not actually doing anything; half of the time Jen doesn’t even feel like the President, just someone pretending they have power without the ability to wield it. 

.

Jen stands as some of the Senior Staff walks into the Oval, throwing them a smile before rounding the desk and walking towards the door. “I want pie, walk and talk.” The five of them make their way through the hallways of the West Wing, bypassing bullpens and meeting rooms. These moments are always Jen’s favorites, holding conversations about the state of the country as they track the hallways of the White House. It’s a symbol of how they function: chaotic yet regulated as they hound each other’s personal space and talk much more loudly than they should.

Nick makes his way to her side as they head for the stairs that take them down to the kitchen near the residence. “State of the Union tonight, Christopher and I should have a final draft on your desk by this afternoon.”

Jen raises an eyebrow and glances at him, “It’s finished though, right? You’re just sprucing it up a bit?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Christopher pipes up from her other side. She notices as he and Nick have a quick, silent conversation with their eyes.

“Mmkay, I’ll just use this time to remind you that I’ll be delivering that speech _tonight_ and it’s kind of, oh I don’t know, important. Perez, have you met with Congresswoman Garcia on the net neutrality thing yet?”

Perez appears on her other side, checking her watch. She abruptly turns around and starts heading the other way before yelling, “I’m meeting with her now actually.”

Jen rolls her eyes right and almost jumps when Judy suddenly appears by her side out of nowhere, joining them as they head through the entrance to the kitchen. “Did I hear the words ‘Congresswoman Garcia?’ The way she pulls off a red lip is so good, just full chef’s kiss.”

“I know right? I should ask her how she does that.” Jen rounds the corner and spots the pastry chef, “Wayne! Can I have some pie please?”

“What kind?”

“It’s a federal crime just to ask me that. Cherry, of course.”

Jen waits patiently as Wayne cuts a slice and serves it on a plate for her, idly talking with the rest of the staff as they discuss something about the equinox and eggs standing on their own. Jen vaguely listens as C.J. and Judy claim they’ve both seen it, but Jen is finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than Judy’s hands as they gesticulate wildly with her passion; they’re slender but sure in their movements, and Jen feels a flutter somewhere low in her stomach. Before she can fully process the feeling, an intern rushes up to her and hands her a note. Jen reads it before looking at Judy and sighing, indicating for her to follow. “My pie will have to wait.”

“Where are we going?”

Jen looks back as she exits the kitchen and starts heading towards the lower level, “The Situation Room.”

Jen waltzes into the enclosed room, noticing the screens adorning the walls are displaying pictures of men and women with their details below. The Joint Chiefs stand and she waves a hand, “Keep your seats. What do we know?”

“Five undercover journalists were captured in Mexico while looking into the country’s narco-politics.”

“Do we know if they’re alive?”

“We were able to confirm ten minutes ago that they were, yes.”

“I want to know every five minutes until these journalists are home whether or not they are alive.”

“Yes, Madam President.”

Jen feels tension building in her shoulders and looks over at Judy, eyes unwavering as they take in the gravity of the situation. She feels Judy’s hand reach for her knee under the table, and Jen stealthily puts her own on top as Judy turns back to the Joint Chiefs, “Have their families been notified?”

“Not yet, we’re waiting to see if a negotiation is on the table. We think they were taken hostage in order to obtain a ransom.”

“And what happens if they don’t like our terms?” She waits as the Joint Chiefs look at each other, an uncomfortable air filling the room. Jen looks at Judy one last time before standing, “Then make sure they do. I have the State of the Union in eight hours, let’s get these journalists on a plane home before then.”

Jen pours a glass of water from the decanter in her office and moves to the middle of the room until she has a clear view into Judy’s office. “Judy, call the Sit Room and check in please!”

“I just did, they’re still alive and the Admiral is still trying to negotiate with the kidnappers,” Judy yells back.

Jen sighs, aware that it has become a staple part of her personality at this point. Abe pokes his head in, smiling warmly. He always has a way of calming Jen down just by being around her, his presence a gentle reminder that there are still good things in the world. She’s known him almost as long as Judy, hiring him as her Executive Secretary ever since she was a mayor. Jen often finds herself coming to him for advice, stuttering out her fears and worries as he holds her hand and reminds her why she does what she does.

“They need you in the Residence to change for the evening.”

“Yessir.”

“Don’t be late, young lady.”

Jen chuckles and rolls her eyes, thankful for his snark on days like this. “I can fire you, you know.”

He laughs as he heads back to his desk, a hearty, deep sound that reminds Jen of her childhood and home back in Brooklyn. She hasn’t been back there since the campaign, never finding the time in between the pandemonium that is now her life. Her dad still calls her once a week always asking when she’ll visit, and Jen can’t find it in her heart to tell him that it hurts too much.

“Judy! I’m heading to the Residence, call me if there are—”

“Updates, yeah, yeah. Go!”

Jen glides through the halls of the West Wing, the black ballgown she’s wearing twirling around her ankles as she makes her way to C.J.’s office. Most of the time Jen prefers to wear pantsuits, perfectly tailored and crisp; a layer of armor in between her and the world as she tries to navigate her job. Occasionally though—like tonight—Jen prefers to wear elegance and grace, decorating herself until she feels new. It works as a different sort of shield, a token for the world to remember that she may be the President but she is still a woman. Judy and C.J. told her in the very beginning, back when they were still campaigning for the primaries, that the number one criticism she would always receive is that she’s a woman. No matter what she does, Jen knows in their eyes she will always be a female president. It’s nights like these she likes to remind her constituents the two are not mutually exclusive, and she excels at being both.

Jen rounds the corner near C.J.’s office and stands in the doorway, appreciating the woman’s work ethic even as she wrinkles an Armani gown. “Did you get the updates on the journalists in Mexico?”

C.J. jumps slightly and stands, “I did, Madam President. I planned on briefing the press corps when we got back.”

“Why haven’t you left yet?”

“I could ask you the same thing, especially considering I’m not the one addressing the nation.”

C.J. throws her a smirk and Jen hums, turning to leave but pausing in the doorway, looking back towards C.J. “I’ve always wanted to ask, how did Judy get you to come back? Everyone assumed you were done with the White House.”

C.J. stands and grabs her coat off the back of her chair, “I did too, but she made a convincing argument.”

“What did she say?”

“It wasn’t anything she said.”

Jen furrows her brows, curious. “What then?”

C.J. pauses, as if detecting the mood Jen is in before answering. “It was the way she talked about you.”

Jen feels her breath hitch and hopes C.J. doesn’t notice, nodding once before turning around and heading towards her office. She’s intercepted by Secret Service on the way there, directing her towards the motorcade to start heading towards the Capitol Building. She’s thankful for the distraction, thoughts of Judy suddenly becoming too much. 

Right as she steps outside, Judy comes bounding towards her with a cellphone in hand still wearing her normal clothes. “Fuck, why haven’t you changed?”

“I will but first, Admiral Young just called. Cartel isn’t giving an easy deal so the Joint Chiefs just finalized a plan for a Navy SEAL team to infiltrate the base and extract the journalists safely.”

“He’s sure?”

Judy nods and offers the phone to Jen, who takes it and holds it up to her ear. “Admiral Young? This is your go-ahead.”

There’s a party of some sort going on back at the White House that Jen is required to attend, but what she wants to do most of all is go to bed. The speech went well—Nick and Christopher really knocked it out of the park this year—but the events of the day are finally weighing down without the adrenaline rush of addressing Congress. She’s always gotten a kick out of watching their faces light up in surprise as she announces her new round of policies and reform. She can’t really get out of the party though, knows schmoozing some of the democratic Congressman is fundamental if she wants to get that healthcare reform bill through.

Ted greets her as she exits the motorcade, offering his arm. She hasn’t seen him in a while, always laying down after he’s already asleep and waking up before he has to. Things between them have been strained—now more than ever—and the hand he presses to the small of her back as they enter the ballroom is artificial. She spots Henry and Charlie over in the corner, this being one of the few nights they’re allowed to stay up late. She makes her way over to them without checking to see if Ted is following her and kisses their foreheads when they congratulate her on how well she did. A lot of the time Jen feels like a bad mom, never spending as much time with the boys as she would like. She was aware of the sacrifices she would be forced to make after she was sworn in, but that’s the one she regrets the most.

Ambassadors and and State officials alike all come up to her, complimenting the speech and her dress and how beautiful her family looks tonight. Jen takes it all with a smile, unable to stop her insides from bleeding a little bit with each one. The publicity is her least favorite part, and C.J. always has to force her to make appearances and smile and shake hands; Judy reminds her it’s essential every time she complains about it, but it never gets easier. Most of these people don’t think she’s qualified despite making it all the way here, and seeing the pity in their eyes only fuels the fire within her.

The British Ambassador is going on about something to do with tariffs and Jen can’t help but relax her eyes a little bit; it’s been a long day and she’s close to her breaking point. Ted grabs her hand and squeezes a little, and when she glances at him she can see the warning in his eyes. He may not be a great husband but he’s a great partner, fully owning the ability to charm anyone and reminding her she should as well.

Jen glances around the room only half listening, doing a double take as Judy enters the ballroom. It’s like the wind is knocked out of her, unable to take a deep breath as her eyes slowly trail up the length of Judy’s body. She opted for a simpler dress this year, but Jen thinks Judy could make a trash bag look good. The dress is cream with delicate beading interspersed across the fabric; the neckline is a lowcut but high enough for modesty’s sake; a slit runs up one side, showing off Judy’s tan legs that are only enhanced by the pair of strappy heels she’s wearing.

Jen can feel herself staring, so she tears her eyes away and glances back at the Ambassador before looking at Ted who is already watching her. He has a curious look in his eyes, and Jen is about to initiate a silent questioning when she feels somebody come up beside her. She realizes it’s Judy as she leans in close to Jen’s ear, whispering that she’s needed for an update on the journalists. Jen suppresses a shiver and nods, excusing herself as she follows Judy out of the ballroom and into an empty corridor where they’ve set up a temporary communications base.

“What’s the latest?”

“The SEAL team was able to successfully extract the journalists but as they were flying over Mexico City, one of the helicopters was shot down. The other one has already safely crossed the border and they’re heading to Fort Morgan now.”

“Shit,” Jen whispers, failure settling into her bones. “How many fatalities?”

“Four. Two of the journalists, the pilot, and his second-in-command,” Judy answers softly.

“Get their families on the phone, I’ll tell them myself.”

Judy looks like she wants to protest but Jen shoots her a warning look, sitting down to make four of the worst kind of phone calls she has to do as President. She knows she could always have Judy or one of the Joint Chiefs do it—it’s not outside the realms of their job descriptions—but Jen has always felt a responsibility when it comes to these things. She signed up for this job, knowing the good and the bad.

“Make sure C.J. knows.”

Judy nods and heads back into the party, leaving Jen to the calls. It takes half an hour and she manages to catch Charlie and Henry in the hallway before they head back to the residence, clutching them a little tighter when she hugs them goodnight. She finds Judy near the bar, managing to bypass a few Congressmen looking to have a few minutes with her; she can’t do anymore politics tonight.

Jen stands next to Judy, taking her glass of wine to steal a sip before handing it back. “Hey.”

“Hey, how did it go?” Judy is looking at her with nothing but warmth, and Jen has to look away for a few seconds.

“As well as you would expect. Have I been here long enough to leave yet?”

“Why?”

“Senior Staff in the Roosevelt Room in twenty minutes, I’m craving Chinese.”

The food is already in the Roosevelt Room by the time Jen gets there, the Senior Staff waiting with it. They clap as she enters, a blush making its way up her chest and over her face, unused to praise. She flips them off until they stop, laughter floating through space as they sit down and open the food containers. In the beginning Jen would try and get them to not talk about politics, their days polluted by it enough, but she soon learned it was futile. It’s impossible to stick six members of the White House staff in one room with eggrolls and not have discourse ensue.

Jen eats her sweet and sour chicken, watching as Judy and Christopher talk about something to do with birth control or birth charts, she’s not really sure; Perez and C.J. are speaking in low tones, dousing their noodles in soy sauce as Jen catches words like _inequality_ and _fuck that_. Nick is sitting next to her, as quiet as she is.

“Did you ever think you’d be here one day?”

Jen chances a look at Judy before answering, catching her eye and smiling. “No, but I’m glad I am.”

They stay there for a few more hours, sitting under a portrait of Theodore Roosevelt and filling themselves up with wontons and laughter and relief. Jen thinks they don’t do this often enough—they never really get the chance to be happy—which makes the moments they do get together all the more monumental, a rag tag group of six doing their hardest to fix the world they’re living in one step at a time. Pride cloaks them, slightly dampened by defeat, but Jen doesn’t think she’d have it any other way. This is where she wants to be, right here, playing with Judy’s foot under the table just to hear her laugh.

.

Jen walks into the Oval Office from the outside corridor, returning from dinner with a smile on her face as she finds most of the Senior Staff waiting for their meeting to start. Jen decides to ignore her desk in favor of a spot in one of the chairs adjacent to the couches. 

“Where’s Judy?”

“She said she needed to do something really quick,” Perez says as she takes a seat next to Nick, sounding weary. It’s not unusual for Perez to be the quiet and solemn one, often silent until she feels the need to say something. Jen likes that about her because whenever she does say something, it ends up being profoundly insightful or snarky. Perez is like C.J. in that way, both of them containing years of experience in the world of politics that have forced them to be wise beyond their years. Nick and Christopher are almost the exact opposite, youthful in their endeavors to make her a well-spoken President. Sometimes they unravel, but most of the time they all function with each other like a perfectly tuned piano, black and white keys to complement one another. Judy often says Jen is the composer, the rest of them the notes and the rhythm Jen makes music with. Jen usually rolls her eyes when Judy reiterates that metaphor, responding with the fact that she could never get the hang of triplets when she tried the clarinet.

Jen ends her musings a few seconds later, focusing on Nick as asks for her attention. “Ma’am, do you know what our codenames are?”

“You think they would give me the nuclear fucking launch codes and draw the line at your codenames? Of course I do.” She scoffs lightheartedly, letting Nick take the brunt of her humor. Sometimes Jen thinks she should try and censor her language while in such a historic and prestigious room, but she found out rather quickly the attempt was futile. 

“What are they?”

“What makes you think I would tell you?” 

“Because you love us,” Christopher comments. 

“Wrong, and even if that were true it’s not a good enough reason.”

“I’ll give you twenty bucks,” Nick tries. 

“Do you have twenty bucks?” Jen asks, raising her eyebrows. 

“No.”

“I’ll buy you dinner then,” Christopher offers. Perez is looking between the two men with a slightly disgusted look on her face, still not used to their antics. A perfectly tuned piano that still misses a note every now and then. 

Jen looks back at Christopher before cocking her head to the side. “I have a fully stocked kitchen with more than one personal chef, what makes you think I need you to buy me dinner?”

“I never said _need_ —”

“Mine used to be Flamingo,” C.J. cuts in. Perez looks at her in surprise, delight etched on her face. 

“Still is,” Jen responds, chuckling at C.J.’s hurt expression.

“That is so insulting.”

“The flamingo is a very pretty bird,” Nick comments. 

“Shut up.”

Jen can sense a lighthearted dispute coming on, and she quickly interrupts them before she is forced to sit through another conversation like the one her staff—which is supposed to represent the intelligence and professionalism the United States carries—had about the origins of chickens and eggs. “Fine, I’ll tell you just so this conversation will end. Judy is Pinball, Perez is Indigo, Nick is Dewdrop, Christopher is Eureka, and Abe is Olympus.”

“Abe has a codename?”

Jen looks at Perez, “Of course, everyone that is someone around here does. Henry is Birdie and Charlie is Blaze.”

“Makes sense. What’s Ted’s?”

Before Jen can respond, Judy rushes into the Oval, face contorted in a painful expression; Jen stands, immediately concerned. Judy gestures to the patio outside, “Madam President?”

Jen nods and follows her, closing the door behind them. Her mind is racing, thinking up all the scenarios that would make Judy look so stricken. Jen leans against one of the giant pillars and Judy follows her, standing close enough for Jen to reach out and take her hand. 

“Judy? What’s up?”

Judy closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before looking back at Jen. “It’s Ted.”

“What about Ted?”

Jen sees a tear slip out of Judy’s eye and feels her stomach drop. “He… he died, Jen. He was on his way back here when his motorcade hit a patch of ice on the road and ran into a median.”

Jen’s brain short-circuits, everything going a little fuzzy. She feels unsteady on her feet and Judy takes hold of her elbows to keep her upright. She gives the pillar more of her weight, not wanting Judy to hold all of her. Jen closes her eyes, inhaling and exhaling through her nose as she feels bile rise in the back of her throat. She opens her eyes once she’s sure she won’t throw up, and she glances through the glass doors into the Oval and sees the rest of the staff looking at her without trying to make it obvious. It gives her a rush of strength, not wanting to break down in front of the people who help her run a country. 

“Okay, well I’ll need to call their family and let them know personally and—

“Jen. You don’t need to be doing anything right now.” Judy squeezes her arms that are still holding her and it grounds Jen, but something inside her begins to break a little. 

“Just because my husband died doesn’t mean I get to stop being President.”

“You may be President, but you are a president whose husband just died. As your Chief of Staff, I am advising you to go to the residence, sit down with your children, and be a family for the rest of the night.”

The mention of Henry and Charlie is what hits her, the dam breaking as the first tears start to fall and she slips down the pillar and onto the ground. Judy obscures her, but nothing can stop the sob that comes out of her mouth as Ted’s death begins to cement inside of her brain. The tears feel hot and heavy on her face, but the rest of her body is cold. Judy’s hands still have a vicelike grip on her, and she thinks that might be the only reason she isn’t completely crumbling. Jen mutters something unintelligible even to her own ears, sounding more like a pained cry than actual words. She faintly hears Judy asking one of the Secret Service agents stationed outside to let the other staff know inside and then she’s being dragged up onto her feet, letting Judy take most of her weight; her eyes are closed, and she senses Judy leading her to the residence. She grasps one of Judy’s hands, knowing it’s probably a little painful but unable to care.

Jen doesn’t let Judy leave her side when she offers, not wanting to let go of the hand that has become a talisman in the murky peripheral her life has become tonight. Fleeting thoughts of breaking news and press conferences and questions about her ability to do her job make their way through her brain, but when she sits down across from Henry and Charlie every ounce of strength leaves her. Judy is still holding her hand, her own silent tears falling. The boys immediately know something is wrong, and it takes everything Jen has to get the words out. Judy stays as Charlie punches a hole in the wall and Henry breaks a drinking glass that slips out of his hand; Judy stays as the three Hardings cry in unison over the one thing keeping them together leaving them alone; Judy stays to tuck Henry into bed as Jen calms Charlie down so he doesn’t cause any more damage to the walls or his hand; Judy stays as she washes Jen’s hair for her in the shower, leading her to bed and pulling the blankets over her shoulders; Judy stays as Jen falls asleep, her presence washing over Jen and providing a warmth Jen felt leave her body two hours ago. 

.

Ted dies on a Tuesday and Jen goes back to work on a Thursday. The Oval Office is blissfully empty when she enters and it takes Judy all of thirty seconds to come rushing through as Jen opens and closes all the drawers in her desk looking for a pen; Jen doesn’t look up, just keeps rifling through the papers that have been neatly placed on top. She can sense Judy approaching her carefully like somebody trying to tame a wild animal, but Jen doesn’t really feel like being tamed today. 

“Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, Madam President, I just… I didn’t expect you back today.”

“I still have a country to run, don’t I?” It comes out a bit harsher than Jen intends it to, but she can’t find it within herself to care. Her grief has manifested in anger and she’s in no position to cure the rage yet, so she pointedly ignores Judy until she gets the hint and goes back to her own office. 

The rest of the day rests on eggshells, the entirety of the staff not making eye contact with her and speaking in hushed tones. It grates on her, fueling the irritation she woke up with and has been carrying around. Something inside her is being stretched thin, like a rubber band being pulled across two impossible points; it’s not until the Senior Staff enters the Oval for their end of the day meeting with pensive looks on their faces that Jen feels the abrupt snap.

“Can you all stop looking at me like I can’t do my fucking job?” No one says anything, just glances at each other out of the corners of their eyes while holding their breath. “Yes, the First Gentlemen died, can we all move on? We still have a country to run and I would have thought we all learned by now that we can’t let our personal lives get in the way of that.”

They all nod, unwilling to break the tension that has settled over the room like a blanket. Jen looks at each one in turn, taking in their slumped shoulders and tired eyes. It hits her then that they all probably worked overtime yesterday, filling in the spaces she left behind while she spent the day in bed cuddled up with Charlie and Henry. She doesn’t even know if they went home last night, aware of their bill on the Hill hanging in the balance and trying to handle the narrative of how Jen is coping. She realizes they must have been protecting her, allowing her the time she needs. 

Jen sighs and puts a hand to her forehead in a futile effort to ease her headache. She carefully takes off her glasses and looks back up, looking at her staff with new appreciation and a softer tone. “I realize these past couple of days have been hard on all of us, and I thank you for the work you’ve been doing. It has allowed me and the boys to have some time together,” Jen pauses as she feels tears forming in her eyes at the thought of Charlie and Henry, but she forces her vision to clear, “and they are at the top of my priority list right now. But right below that is my job, and I intend on doing it. Go home, get some sleep, and come back in the morning ready to do some good. That’s all.”

They all throw timid smiles her way, murmurings of _thank you, ma’am_ and _yes, Madam President_ filtering through the air as they make their way out of the room. Jen sees Judy hovering in her peripherals, but she waits until Abe has bid her goodnight and closed the door.

“Did you need something?”

“I’m worried. The country can last a couple of more days without you.”

“I really don’t think it can, Judy. You think I haven’t watched C.J.’s briefings? You think I don’t know how everyone in the world is questioning my ability to do this job right now?” Jen holds her hands out in exasperation, daring Judy to fight her; she’s full of rage and desperate for a place to direct it other than inside.

“Your husband _died_ , Madam President. You don’t have to prove anything.”

Jen rolls her eyes, “I’m always having to prove something.”

“At least keep shorter hours for the next few weeks. I’m sure Henry and Charlie would love to have you around—”

“Oh, so now I’m a shitty mother? I don’t need you to tell me that, Judy.” Jen starts packing her briefcase hastily, the need for flight unusually overpowering the need for fight.

“Of course not, I wasn’t implying—”

“Can you just stop trying to fix me for two fucking seconds, please? Just _stop_.”

Judy takes a couple of steps closer to her, hand outstretched like she wants to touch her but afraid of what will happen if she does. “Jen…”

“I don’t know if I can do this, Judy.” Tears start falling and so does she, dropping her briefcase and collapsing onto her chair. “How the fuck am I supposed to do this?”

Judy doesn’t answer right away, just closes the distance between them and crouches in front of Jen’s knees. “No one expects you to know how to do this, Jen. But that doesn’t mean you won’t have help. Okay?”

Jen looks up, sees the truth and fear in Judy’s eyes. Golden, like a warm day in the middle of a summer Jen can’t remember. “Okay.”

.

Jen brings the blankets up high on Henry’s body, smiling. “All good and tucked in?”

He nods, “All good.”

“I love you, Boop.”

He murmurs a reply and Jen stands, about to turn off the light when he calls out for her. She turns around, waiting. “Do you miss Dad?”

“Of course I miss him, Hen.”

“Do you ever feel alone?”

“Sometimes.”

“I wish you didn’t.”

Henry frowns and it looks so much like Judy’s; he turns on his side and Jen shuts off the light before he can see her tears. She just manages to say goodnight to Charlie before going back to her bedroom and shutting the door behind her, leaning against it as the sobs start to rip their way out of her chest. She puts a hand over her mouth, unwilling to let the Secret Service bear witness to this. Slowly, she slides down until she’s sitting on the floor, flashes of the same thing when she found out Ted had died—but Judy was there that time, and she’s not here now.

Making a decision and refusing to think it through, Jen quickly wipes away the tears on her face and sticks her head out the door. “Can you check if Judy has gone home yet?”

The Secret Service agent speaks lowly into his cufflink before looking back at Jen, “She’s still in her office, ma’am.”

“Can you ask her to come up to the residence when she’s done?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

While waiting for Judy, Jen takes the time to wash the day away and change into a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt. For the first couple of weeks after Ted died, she would wear his clothes to bed. She stopped though, the scent of him overpowering and insomnia inducing. She has found it easier to erase the traces of him that she can, unable to bear the reminders.

Jen sits up when she hears a knock, telling Judy to come in. She enters and Jen’s breath stops for a second; it’s odd because for so long Judy was like fresh air, but lately Jen has found it hard to breathe whenever Judy is around. She stands there, looking slightly confused as Jen tries to find an explanation for her request.

“You okay?”

“I shouldn’t have called you up here, it’s been a long day.” Jen tries to backtrack, unable to come up with anything less embarrassing than the truth.

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m here.” Judy sets her bag down and sits on the other side of the bed, waiting for Jen.

“I haven’t been able to… sleep lately. It’s just so lonely. It’s not even that I miss Ted, I just miss having someone next to me, I think.” Jen can’t look at Judy, the vulnerability making her avoidant and desperate at the same time.

“It’s okay if you miss him.”

Jen looks up at her finally, “Is it okay if I don’t?”

“Of course. You’re the President of the United States, you can do whatever you want.” Judy cracks a smile and Jen can’t help but chuckle, aware of Judy trying to make her feel better. Jen isn’t sure if she deserves to feel better at this point.

“I think I’m a bad person. I’m grieving him, but I think it’s more about missing the idea of him, than actually missing _him_. Fuck, does that make sense?”

Judy moves closer, grabbing Jen’s hand in her own. “I know your marriage was far from perfect and I know how hard it was on you. Maybe you wanted him to leave so you didn’t have to, but that doesn’t mean you wanted him to leave like this.”

Jen feels a tear slip down the side of her face and she wipes it away. She’s so tired of crying and mourning and feeling; she just wants to sleep. Aware of Judy’s hand still in hers, Jen focuses on the warmth emanating from it and the way Jen feels the first sense of peace she’s had in weeks. Her eyelids start to droop, and the exhaustion has her speaking before thinking. “Will you stay?”

Judy looks up in surprise, “Here?”

“No, the floor of the Mural Room. _Yes_ , Judy, I’m asking you to stay here. I can get you anything you need.”

Judy takes a moment to look at her, no doubt seeing the way her entire body has caved in on itself, fighting the world away in order to protect what little remains. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Jen knows they’ll worry about what this looks like and what this means tomorrow; her and Judy haven’t shared a bed since their drunken wine nights in their twenties, politics and promotions never allowing for much free time. She ignores the way her heart leaps when Judy forgoes the option to have someone bring her a set of pajamas, asking to borrow a pair of Jen’s instead. She walks out of the in suite a few minutes later, fresh and clean and domestic. Jen feels something spreading throughout her body, filling her with a sense of softness and a wish for immortality of this moment. Judy climbs into bed next to her, not hesitating to pull Jen close. They fall asleep like that, and Jen’s last thought is that her and Judy might be more intertwined than she ever realized.

.

They don’t really talk about it, her and Judy, about whatever this new development between them is. Jen assumed the bed sharing would be a one-off thing, but it’s unexpectedly become a weekly occurrence. They woke up the same way they fell asleep that first time, both of them sheepishly admitting that was the best sleep they’ve had in a while. Jen knows it’s impossible to ask Judy to stay with her every night, Jen has kids and a country and Judy has a life outside of the White House. She’s not selfish enough to ask, because she knows Judy would always say yes. Her ability to give has always baffled Jen, watching Judy over the years as she gave and gave and gave such big parts of herself to others, never expecting anything in return. If life was a rush, Judy was the gold and Jen was the fool.

They don’t talk about it, though. One night a week, usually the hardest and longest one, Judy will follow Jen back up to the Residence and they’ll get ready for bed in silence, aware of each other’s need for respite. They fall asleep holding hands, an anchor to combat the buoyancy their jobs create. Maybe that’s why they don’t talk about it, because they both know that comfort and that closeness is what they need to get through their days; it doesn’t actually _mean_ anything.

The only people aware of the arrangement are whatever Secret Service agents that get assigned to stay outside her bedroom door every night, and Jen is glad they’re trained for, well, secrecy. She can’t even begin to think about the scandal that would ensue if anyone else ever found out about this; it’s purely innocent but it doesn’t look like it. As far as anyone else would be concerned, the Chief of Staff would be spending one night a week in the President’s bed with the door locked, both of them emerging the next day with relaxed smiles. No one else can know, so her and Judy don’t ever, ever talk about it.

Jen’s train of thought ends when she feels Judy stir next to her, blindly reaching out to find Jen’s hand with her own. This is always Jen’s favorite part, bearing witness to morning Judy and how at peace she seems, so serene in the dim light of the sunrise sparking. Wordlessly, they stay in bed for a few more minutes until they have to start the day, taking turns in the bathroom and getting dressed behind closed doors. It’s intimate and domestic and it makes Jen’s heart squeeze a little bit inside her chest; she’s always craved the easy routine but never quite got it with Ted. By the time she entered office he wasn’t around much, spending time with the boys or off somewhere defending the arts and advocating for healthier school lunches. He never touched her unless they were in public together, and Jen cringes thinking about how long it’s been since she’s had sex. Her life really has become a Greek tragedy at this point, her own flaws the reason for her suffering.

Judy walks out of the bathroom in a new outfit and looking revitalized, asking Jen if she’s ready to head down. Jen nods and they make their way to the West Wing together, parting ways once they reach the Oval Office. The Senior Staff meeting isn’t until another fifteen minutes, so she asks Abe to bring her a cup of coffee and takes the time to look through the piles of documents that accumulated on her desk overnight.

Abe walks in a few minutes later, setting a mug down on her desk right in front of her. “You’re amazing.”

He chuckles, “How you doing, kiddo?”

“I’m okay.” Abe looks at her with skepticism and she glares back, “Really.”

“Good. How’s Judy?”

Jen chokes on the coffee she was sipping and takes a second to recover, a deer in the headlights. “What? What do you mean? How would I know?”

“She seems happier.”

He says it so simply but the way he’s looking at Jen makes her feel caught; she doesn’t know how he does it but Abe is like the omnipotent figurehead of the administration. She knows he knows, but if she admits it then it will actually mean _something_ , and Jen doesn’t have the time to think about that. “Don’t you have work to be doing? Documents to read, emails to answer?”

“Yeah, yeah. Shout if you need something.”

“You do know we have an intercom, right?”

“I don’t know how to use that crap.”

Jen ends the staff meeting, feeling good; it hasn’t been easy in the months since Ted with the public questioning her ability and republicans in Congress trying to approve tax cuts under the radar. It feels like they all found their footing again though, tension no longer the controlling the frequencies of their conversations and Jen able to go a whole day without shouting. She would be lying if she said the whole Ted dying thing didn’t make her worry about the credibility of their administration, but it’s only the second year and she still has reformations to perform.

Jen notices C.J. lingering in the doorway, contrition governing her every movement. Jen waits for her, eyebrow raised.

“We have a problem.”

Jen closes her eyes, a headache suddenly forming behind her eyes. “What kind of problem?”

“Karen, the White House correspondent for _The New York Times_? She has a quote from an unnamed White House source stating that you and Wood aren’t on good terms. She wants to run it first thing tomorrow morning so it can still make headlines over the weekend.”

“Do you know who the source is?” Jen starts rubbing her temples as the anger begins to settle in.

“I wish I could tell you but usually unnamed sources remain just that. Ma’am,” C.J. begins, carefully considering her words, “the quote says that you keep Wood on a short leash in fear he’s going to undermine you like he has in the past.”

Jen lets out a long breath, “ _Fuck_.”

“My thoughts exactly, Madam President. I’ll get this under control.”

“Good, I don’t think I have to tell you what will happen if you don’t.”

C.J. nods and takes her leave, leaving Jen to look around for something she can throw that will cause the least damage. She settles on a pen and lets it act as a conduit for her rage as it connects with a wall across the room. _I’m going to fucking kill him_ , she thinks, _actually kill him_.

Jen spends the rest of the day trying to keep herself under control until her meeting with Steve that evening. Getting the biggest douche known to politics on her ticket had been one of the hardest decisions she made after winning candidacy, but everyone on her campaign knew it was the smartest move. She barely beat him in the primaries, and if she wanted to win, she needed him; he may be insufferable at best and downright repulsive at worst, he knew his way around the Hill.

Now, though, Jen is rethinking her decision. It’s no secret in the West Wing that her and Steve weren’t close—or even amicable—but that was the last thing the public needed to know. If that quote gets out, Jen doesn’t know what she’ll do but she knows it won’t be good.

Around seven, Abe lets her know the Vice President is waiting outside. She tells him to send him in, clenching her fists and pacing in front of her desk. She stops when he enters, plastering a smile on her face. “There he is, my trusty Vice President.”

“How are you doing tonight, Madam President?”

“I’m peachy, Steve, how are you?”

“Perfectly swell.”

Jen sits down one of the chairs in the middle of the room and Steve follows suit, a smirk on his face that Jen wants to slap off. “Would you care to explain why you made one of your interns leak a story about our professional relationship?”

Steve’s face morphs from smug to surprise to indignant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Now is really not the time to mess with me, Wood,” Jen says, cutting him off, “my husband died four months ago, my son’s lives are in disarray and I can’t help them because I’m too busy running the country, I have to be on a flight to Tokyo in four hours, so the last thing I need is you leaking stories to the fucking press!”

Steve puts his hands up in a truce-like manner, chuckling. “Jen, I don’t know where you got your information from—”

“Uh uh, Steve. You are in _my_ Oval Office, and you will address me as Madam President.” Jen delights in the way Steve’s face hardens at the reminder she’s the one who made it here, not him.

“Madam President, with all due respect—”

“Frankly Steve, I couldn’t care less about your respect. It means _nothing_ to me. Now, you’re going to make sure that intern gets a lovely job at the Majority Leader’s office so she doesn’t have to be ordered around by you and your incompetent staff anymore, and then you’re going to release a statement. Would you like to know what it’s going to say?”

“I don’t—”

“You’re going to tell the press that our relationship is splendid, that we work very hard together in order to better our country. You are going to deny the allegations that we do not get along, and you are going to tell them it is your pleasure to serve this country and your President. Are we clear?”

Jen stands, forcing Steve to follow suit. “Yes, Madam President.”

She takes a few steps closer, fury punctuating each one of her movements. “Good. Now get the _hell_ out of my office.”

Abe comes in a few seconds later with a cookie and Jen takes it appreciatively, smiling when she takes a bite and realizes it’s an Entenmann’s.

.

Jen knocks on the door to Judy’s office and opens, finding Judy at her desk. She looks up in surprise and Jen notices the way the lamplight catches on Judy’s hair, making it look golden and soft. She meets Judy’s eyes and blushes, afraid of being caught. They still spend the night together, more sporadically now as the summer months roll in and things around the world heat up with the temperature; days are characterized by nuclear threats and dictators and peace deals. More often than not, Jen finds herself missing Judy’s presence whenever she’s not around, craving the ease Judy offers.

“What’s up?”

Jen starts, realizing she hasn’t said anything yet. “I was wondering if you wanted to go over the budget report together?”

“It’s late, you sure you don’t want to save it for tomorrow?”

“Come on, it’s only ten and we both know I can’t fall asleep until midnight at the earliest.”

Judy frowns as she gestures for Jen to sit on the couch, joining her a moment later. “You should really do something about that, it’s not good for you.”

“Nothing I do is good for me, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh! Before we start, I have something for you.”

“What?” Jen’s brow furrows as Judy stands and rushes to the armoire across the room, rifling around inside before pulling out a gift and handing it over to Jen as she sits back down next to her.

“I know it’s Mother’s Day on Sunday and I wanted to do something, but I didn’t know if I would see you,” Judy explains.

Jen looks down at the present, the wrapping pristine and precise, _very Judy_. Jen begins to carefully unwrap it as she feels Judy’s eagerness grow with each tear. Jen uncovers the last bit of paper to find a framed painting, small in size but grandeur in its beauty. She gasps, tracing her fingers over the lifelike details of Charlie and Henry; it’s a portrait of the two of them, laughing at some unknown joke against a navy background. Her heart breaks a little to realize she hasn’t seen them that happy in a long time.

Jen looks at Judy, trying to control the emotion she feels in the corner of her eyes. “Did you… did you make this?” Judy nods. “I didn’t realize you still painted.”

“I don’t have a lot of time for it anymore, but I wanted to make something for you. I thought you could put it on your desk? But you totally don’t have to, I don’t want to sound presumptuous—”

“Judy…” Jen tries, but Judy keeps rambling her nerves into the air between them. Jen’s eyes flit between Judy’s face and her hands as they gesticulate, and suddenly a feeling blooms in her chest, a desire to show Judy just how much this means to her.

“—and I get it if you don’t really like it, it probably isn’t very good anyway—"

Jen cuts her off with a kiss, and when she realizes what she’s done she immediately begins to panic. Judy’s hands come up to her face before she can pull away, holding her in place. She places her hand on Judy’s neck and pulls her closer, inhaling the scent that surrounds her and embeds itself inside her bones. It’s gentle and just a little too intimate for Jen to explain as a tactic, lasting longer than Jen thought it would. She breaks away to catch her breath and is caught off guard by the look on Judy’s face. Lips slightly swollen, hair a bit mussed, liberation shaded in the shadows the lamp casts around the room.

Their breathing is labored and Jen wants nothing more than to take Judy’s breath away again, sealing it up inside herself to keep forever. Her need alarms her, the sudden awareness that this is _Judy_ , her best friend and co-worker. Judy is still looking at her and she can’t deal with this, she needs to leave. Jen abruptly stands and rushes into the Oval Office, out the patio door and up to the Residence, touching her lips the whole way. If she closes her eyes, she can still feel Judy’s on them. 


	2. term one, year four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man oh man please don't hate me. big time jump, let's see what happened, shall we?

“Thanks guys, that’s all for now. Have a good night,” Jen says as the Senior Staff thanks her and starts to file out of the office. Judy stays behind, watching the rest leave and close the door behind them. Jen watches her, still mesmerized by her after all these years. Judy looks at her and Jen wants to kiss her so she takes her glasses off instead. Judy comes to stand in front of her desk and Jen sits, waiting.

“We should talk about bail reform tomorrow.”

Jen nods, “Okay. Anything else?”

“Nope,” Judy shakes her head, smiling briefly. She stands there for a few more seconds before heading back through the door to her office, leaving Jen alone. She sighs, glancing around the room until her eyes land on the framed portrait at the corner of her desk. Charlie and Henry look older now, and Jen aches a little to think about how the years have changed them. The portrait has sat in the same spot for two years, and Jen’s heart aches for a different reason when she remembers the night Judy gave it to her. She had been careless and stupid, letting one moment of vulnerability almost completely destroy everything her and Judy have worked so hard for.

She had left Judy in her office, fleeing until she felt her bedroom door behind her back and her breathing was under control. Jen had tosses and turned all night, the anticipation of seeing Judy the next morning too much to bear. They didn’t get a chance to talk until the next evening, and Jen made sure to stay firmly planted behind her desk, not trusting herself to not reach out for Judy.

_Listen, you were feeling a lot of things and, um…_

_I was, and I just, you know. I just—_

_Yeah, I know. It obviously didn’t mean anything._

_So, we’re good?_

_Yeah, we’re good._

It had been tense for a few weeks after that, but eventually they settled back into their usual banter and things seemed to get easier. Jen just had to learn to ignore the way Judy’s mouth moves when she talks about something she’s excited about, or the way her hands move when she brushes her bangs out of her face while concentrating on a memo; she learned to ignore the somersaults inside her stomach whenever Judy traversed the halls like she owned them, and the way her body lit on fire whenever Judy placed a comforting hand on her shoulder or her elbow or her thigh. Sometimes Jen thinks about what would have happened if she had stayed instead of running away, but she doesn’t let herself wonder often because that kiss was a mistake. She and Judy could _never_ —even if they wanted to—and as far as Jen is concerned, Judy doesn’t even like her like that. Jen’s not sure if she likes Judy that way either, chalking up the impulse to their close friendship and a moment of senselessness founded on grief and appreciation.

Instead of figuring out her feelings though, Jen poured herself into work and the boys, trying to give as much of herself away as possible until nothing was left for Judy. Family dinners and tax plans and expense reports and rose garden walks, all taking until Jen didn’t have time to think about the way Judy’s mouth felt on hers. Judy deserved more than a grieving widow with anger issues and the country deserved more than a President distracted by her Chief of Staff—so Jen had shut it down, choosing to preserve one of the most important relationships in her life. She doesn’t know what she would do if she hurt Judy, or if Judy left because of her; Jen is pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

.

Jen sits down with her coffee, taking a sip as the rest of the Senior Staff takes seats on the couches opposite her. She notices as they all stare at each other, holding a silent conversation that none of them look like they want to start. Jen looks at Judy, but she looks just as confused as she is.

“Would you guys like to continue using your telepathic abilities to communicate or would you like to share with the class?”

Perez throws one last dirty look at Nick before she angles herself towards Jen. “Madam President, we need to talk about re-election.”

Jen chokes a bit on her coffee, “What? Haven’t we dealt with enough this year?”

“Madam President, it’s only February,” Perez responds cautiously.

“What’s your point?”

“We should start making plans now. A head start will make November much easier.”

“Tis the season, I guess. C.J., will you do some polling? Nick, Christopher, draft up an official announcement?”

The three of them nod and Jen tries not to feel overwhelmed by the thought of campaigning again. The first one almost gave her an aneurysm and she’s not quite ready to experience it again.

“Just to be clear,” Christopher begins, “you want us to announce that you’re running again, right?”

Jen narrows her eyes, making Christopher squirm in his seat a little. “What do you think my answer is to that question, Chrissy-boy? This bail reform is going to take another year to get on the Congress floor as it is and I’ll be damned if I’m not around to make sure that happens.”

“Ma’am?”

“What’s up C. Jean?”

“I think it’s important that you know there will probably be a lot of press about Ted when the election starts to get closer. Some of it good, some of it bad, but it will happen.”

Jen’s throat tightens and she forces a laugh. “What, they’re going to question my ability to run the country just because my husband died and then I found out he was having an affair?”

“Um, well, yes.”

“We’ll deal with that when we get there, then. Thanks.” Jen immediately stands and heads towards her desk as everyone leaves, keeping her head down until she hears the door close. She looks up and sees Judy still there, still waiting. “I’m getting a weird sense of deja-vu.”

“I just wanted to tell you really quick that I’m here for you. I know this election is probably going to be difficult, maybe even more difficult than the last one—”

“I appreciate your vote of confidence there, Judes.”

“—but I’m here. If you need me.”

Judy looks genuine and slightly afraid, and Jen smiles softly. “I know. Thank you, Judy.”

She leaves and Jen is alone, again. She walks over and opens the door to her office, finding Abe at his desk. He looks up from his book and smiles at her, instantly making Jen feel a little better. “Do you have any more cookies?”

His smile turns to a smirk as he opens a desk drawers and tosses her a box of Entenmann’s.

.

Jen walks through the West Wing, making her way through the bullpen and heading towards C.J.’s office. The door is closed and Jen asks an intern if C.J. is inside, laughing a little as the intern drops the papers they were holding and nods their head yes. She thanks them and knocks on C.J.’s door, surprised to see Perez open it; she nods at Jen once, slipping past her and walking towards her own office. Jen looks back at C.J. confused, but not willing to ask just yet but very tempted when she sees the blush on C.J.’s face.

“Don’t you have a meeting with the ambassador from Brazil right now?”

“I just wanted to stop by on my way to see if you got the results yet?”

“The call center closes in about an hour, I should have the numbers by tonight.”

“Great, great.” Jen walks inside a bit more, trying to act casual as she peruses the bookshelf and looks back at C.J. “So, what were you and Perez talking about?”

C.J.’s head snaps up from the briefing on her desk, “What?”

“Perez, she was just in here. What did she want?”

“Oh, we were just talking about possible debate topics. You know Ana, always wanting—”

“Oh my fuck. Oh my fucking god!”

“What?”

“You just called her Ana! You two are together, aren’t you?”

C.J. rushes towards the door and closes it before turning back around. “Madam President, we didn’t want you to find out like this—”

“Holy shit, you _are_.”

“It happened a few weeks ago so no one else knows.”

“Okay, okay,” Jen holds up her hands as a truce, “I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“Thank you.”

“However, Claudia Jean, I don’t think I need to tell you how important it is that the press doesn’t find out.”

“They won’t.”

Jen nods, moving past C.J. to open the door again. She smirks, giving C.J. a once over before looking back up at her, “You and Perez, huh? I thought you looked, I don’t know, different. A certain _glow_ about you.”

“You’re supposed to be in a meeting right now—”

“I’m the President, C.J., the Brazilian ambassador can wait a couple minutes.” Jen starts to leave but turns back, “I’m happy for you guys, though.”

C.J. tilts her head in thanks and Jen finally leaves, taking a deep breath as envy sprouts from the roots of her delight. She wonders what it must be like to love someone like that, so easily. Jen turns a corner and heads towards the Mural Room, catching a glimpse of Judy as she heads down a different hallway, moving farther and farther away. Jen pauses to watch her retreating back, wishing she could follow.

“Abe, send them in when they get here, please.”

“Will do, Madam President.”

Jen walks back into her office and sits down on one of the couches. She hears the door to Judy’s office open and close, listening to the sound of footsteps getting closer. Judy comes into view and smiles as she sits down next to Jen, leaving more than enough space between them. Neither say anything and Jen feels a little awkward; they don’t spend a lot of time alone together anymore, and Judy hasn’t come up with her to the Residence since the kiss. It’s become an unspoken agreement, the tiptoeing around each other like something else is going to happen. Jen misses how easy it used to be, and she hates herself for ruining it. She knows Judy tries so hard not to make it uncomfortable, but she can’t take away Jen’s loathing that sits at the bottom of her heart; she can’t stop Jen from wishing she had never been so reckless.

Judy looks at her, “Did Nick tell you about his meeting with Congresswoman Lee?”

Jen nods, staring straight ahead and too caught up in her conflicting feelings to respond. There’s a war inside her whenever Judy is around, two sides battling for control. One wants to take Judy into her arms and hold her close enough so she’ll never leave, and the other wants to run as far away as possible until Judy is nothing but a memory Jen only remembers when she falls asleep at night, thinking about the ghost of their kiss.

“What would you do if two Senior Staff members got together?” Jen freezes, unable to believe the question that just came out of her mouth. She didn’t mean to say it out loud, but Judy has a tendency to make her talk without even trying.

Judy fidgets, “I’m sorry?”

Jen waves a hand in the air, “I just mean, if two Senior Staff members started dating, would you do anything?”

Judy considers her answer for a moment before looking at Jen, “I would worry about the press finding out for sure, but I don’t think I would tell them they couldn’t, if that’s what you mean. Why?”

“Oh, no reason. Just curious.” Jen looks away and back again, wishing the ground would open up and drag her somewhere below the earth. She thinks she should explain just in case Judy thinks she was asking for a more personal reason, but she can’t form any words when she notices the look in Judy’s eyes. It’s a concoction of emotion, regret and curiosity at the forefront. Jen appreciates the way the lamps around the room illuminate Judy’s eyes, allowing her to gaze deeper as she tries to decipher what she sees. They used to be able to read each other so well, but lately Judy has been hieroglyphs to her; Jen thinks she sees a certain desire, a need for something.

“Madam President.”

Jen jumps a little as the rest of the staff walks into the office, feeling her face flush. She notices her and Judy moved closer to each other, and she tries to subtly shift away to put some distance between them again. Jen glances at Perez, noticing the way her eyes flit between her and Judy. Jen forces herself to look at C.J., “Are they in?”

C.J. holds up a folder and Jen holds her breath as she opens it, all of them silent with anticipation and nerves. This poll is going to decide the rest of their re-election campaign, setting the tone and determining whether or not the public thinks she can do this for another four years.

C.J. looks back up at them and smirks, “We went up six points, putting us at a job approval rating of 68%.”

A collective sigh travels around the room and Jen looks over at Judy, relief on both of their faces. Without thinking about it, Jen leans and hugs her, breathing in the scent that follows Judy around and sparks something within Jen. Judy holds her close, arms wrapped around Jen’s waist, and this is the first time in two years Jen has without feeling the bitter taste of regret in her mouth. She pulls away a few moments later, overcome with the need to place her hand on Judy’s cheek; the flecks of gold in Judy’s eyes are glimmering with tears and Jen wants to kiss her so _badly_ , every nerve ending in her body screaming at her to just do it—

“We should really use this to our advantage with bail reform,” Christopher says, and Jen realizes they’re still in the Oval Office surrounded by their staff and not alone in Judy’s office two years ago. Jen clears her throat feels her face heat in embarrassment; everyone knows her and Judy are close, but even that was too familiar. She notices the way Perez and C.J. look at each other, faces mirroring each other’s as they raise a singular eyebrow. Jen can barely stand the speculation that goes on in her own head so she claps her hands together to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, what else?”

.

The words on the report in front of Jen begin to blur together as she tries to read the same sentence for the fourth time. It’s only early afternoon but she’s already exhausted; she got woken up two hours early because of a crisis in Pakistan and no amount of coffee can make her functional on three hours of sleep. She reaches for her cup anyways, hoping this sip will breathe life back into her; it sits heavy in her mouth and she closes her eyes for a few seconds, thinking. She hasn’t been able to get Judy off her mind lately—more than usual—and if Judy is able to distract her this much because of a couple of hugs, Jen thinks it’s a really good thing that kiss never went anywhere. The hug after they got the poll results was one thing, but the hug they had after she officially was announced the candidate for the Democratic Party was something else. It was in a corridor at the event space, just the two of them and a couple of Secret Service agents. The rest of the Senior Staff had already left to do more polls and press, leaving her and Judy to bask in the relief for a little longer.

_I’m so proud of you._

_I could say the same to you._

Judy hadn’t said anything else, just pulled Jen into her arms and held her there. It was quiet and a small gift, one moment of normalcy that was reminiscent of the early days. Judy had pulled away after a minute and just looked at Jen, something warring behind her eyes. The moment ended there, Secret Service interrupted to escort back to the White House. They haven’t been alone in the same room since then though, and Jen gets the distinct feeling Judy is trying to avoid her without making it seem glaringly obvious to anyone else.

They haven’t had a moment like those hugs in two years and Jen feels lost because of it. Even the times they were alone, it was always about work or grief, neither of them willing to be alone with just the thought of what could have been. It was too much, and Jen can’t blame Judy for not wanting to be around her when it’s her fault they’re in this mess. But Judy didn’t even linger after this morning’s meeting like she has every day for the past three and a half years, and it hurt Jen in a way she didn’t know was possible. She wishes she could take back that kiss so she could have her best friend back, but she also doesn’t want to forget the way Judy’s lips felt on hers—soft and something akin to mystic.

“You’re meeting with the Majority Leader in ten minutes, and after that you have a photo-op with the Vice President and the D.C. Dynamos.”

Jen startles, looking up to see Abe standing in the doorway, “Baseball?”

“Little league. Won their championship.”

Abe turns to leave but Jen calls out for him to wait. “Will you come in here for a second? Close the door behind you.” Jen closes the binder in front of her and stands, sitting on the couch and patting the spot next to her; Abe smiles and sits down. “How can I help you today, Madam President?”

Jen takes a second to form the words, settling on “I need your advice.”

“Shoot.”

“Has there ever been anyone you… there’s someone that I… oh fuck me.”

“You’re a little young for me, but if you’re offering, okay.”

Jen looks at Abe in astonishment, laughing. “You’re crazy.”

Abe shrugs, “Everyone’s a little crazy. Now, what is it you need my help with?”

Jen sighs, staring at her hands so she doesn’t have to feel like she’s being completely vulnerable. “Have you ever wanted someone so badly, but you couldn’t have them?”

Abe sucks in a breath and releases it slowly, “Oh yes. You don’t get this far in life without a few heartbreaks along the way.”

“How did you do it?”

Abe looks at her curiously, “Do what?”

“Get over them?” Jen looks at him like it’s obvious, waiting for the secret to all her problems.

Abe frowns, “Oh sweetheart, I didn’t.”

“So what I’m hearing come out of your mouth is that there is no hope for me, whatsoever.”

Abe grabs her hand and squeezes it, “If there is one thing I always have for you, it’s hope.”

“You think too highly of me, Abe.”

She tries to stand up but Abe’s grip on her hand tightens. “Jennifer Harding, you may be high-strung and yell a lot—”

“I think this conversation should end now.”

“—but you are loyal and love with your whole heart. You deserve happiness just as much as the next person.”

Jen sees nothing but honesty and in his eyes, and she can’t bring herself to tell him he’s wrong. Sometimes she thinks Abe is the only one of them who hasn’t been permanently changed by this Presidency, the grounding force reminding all of them there is actually good in the world. Jen hugs him, relaxing in his embrace. “Thank you.”

Abe stands but turns back towards Jen after a few steps, “By the way, and not that my opinion matters, but I think you two are cute together.”

Jen feels a spike of adrenaline shoot through her, “Who?”

“I may be old, but I’m not stupid.” He turns back around and closes the door behind him, leaving Jen to wonder just how obvious it is to everyone that she is completely, utterly, and foolishly captivated by her best friend.

Flanked by Secret Service, Jen walks into the lobby of the West Wing to waiting reporters and a rather large group of children. She smiles, letting the rest of her worries go as she hugs each kid and makes bad jokes to alleviate their nerves. _Here,_ _touch my hand. I’m just like you._ She pointedly ignores Steve until she has to acknowledge him, shaking his hand while fully aware there is a group of reporters watching their every move; her smile is genuine enough for them, but she knows Steve can see the flash of loathing when she looks at him. She’s just thankful he knows how to act just as well as her.

Her, Steve, and the kids gather to take a group picture, and out of the corner of her eye Jen can see Judy behind the reporters. She’s looking at the children fondly, and Jen grieves the memory of Judy finding out she could never have her own. It was right before the Inauguration, and Jen remembers the way Judy tried to hold herself together until Jen hugged her, breaking down at the loss of possibility.

_You’ll always have us, honey. We’re your family._

Jen’s not sure Judy believed it at the time, but she knows Judy definitely doesn’t believe it now; one mistake and Jen has managed to change the nature of their friendship forever. Twenty years gone and she still doesn’t deserve Judy.

“She’s something, huh.”

Jen looks at Steve before quickly turning back to the flashing cameras. “What?”

“Judy,” he says by way of explanation, “she’s a piece of work.”

Her smile remains but her eyes go cold and the hand on Steve’s shoulder stiffens. “What are you talking about?”

Steve glances at her with a smirk Jen instantly wants to slap off his face, “She’s cute, but she’s not easy.”

“How would you know,” Jen snaps. The smile quickly returns to her face when one of the children looks up at her, and she pats his head reassuringly. Steve leans in a little closer and Jen fights all instincts to move away.

“You didn’t know? Judy and I were together.”

Before she can respond, C.J. calls an end to the photo-op and rushes the reporters out of the room. Jen stays behind to say goodbye to the little league team and by the time she’s done, Steve is nowhere to be found. She scans the lobby to see if Judy is still there, but she’s gone too. It’s the middle of the day but Jen feels the urge to down a glass of wine—or two—and forget the fact that her entire life has seemingly gone to absolute shit. Instead she heads back to the Oval and throws a hand up to everyone who tries to talk to her, not in the mood to even pretend to care. She can’t believe she never knew, or that Judy never told her. The Vice President and the Chief of Staff dating is a press disaster waiting to happen, let alone the fact that Steve is fucking _gross_. Something heavy sits in the bottom of Jen’s stomach, but it’s not until an hour and three briefings later that she realizes what it is: betrayal.

Jen closes the report she’s reading and takes off her glasses as the Senior Staff files into the Oval Office. She stands and stretches her back a little, cringing when she feels a sharp pain shoot through her. She sees Judy’s look of concern but Jen ignores her and glances at the rest of the staff. “What’s the 4-1-1?”

“The Rocky Mountains are seeing a rise in UFO sightings,” Nick responds.

“I’m sorry?”

“Up ten percent from last year,” Christopher adds.

“Oh, was today that thing you do with the—”

Judy nods, “Yes, today I set up meetings for the Senior Staff to meet with those who have asked for the White House’s attention and have yet to receive it. It’s our job to let everybody who wants it have a voice.”

“Was it at least a slow day? We didn’t have any pressing matters to attend to, like poverty or missile strikes in Russia?” It’s a bit harsh and she knows it’s important to Judy, but Jen can’t bring herself to care.

“In other news, the Commission of Presidential Debates just called and they decided on two,” Perez adds, and Jen is silently relieved for the change in topic. 

Jen nods, “We got some work to do then. Pack your bags guys, it’s going to be a long weekend.”

Judy perks up, “We’re going to Camp David?”

Jen suppresses the urge to snap at her, trying not to bring even more attention to the fact that there’s something wrong. “Yip, we’re going to Camp David.”

.

Jen looks out the window of Marine One and takes a deep breath, steadying herself for the weekend ahead. Camp David has always been one of her favorite perks of being President, the seclusion and nature always allowing her, Ted, and the boys to feel like a normal family for a few days. She glances at Charlie and Henry sitting across from her, taking a few seconds to marvel at how much they’ve grown up over the past couple of years. It burns to know she missed a lot of it, but she’s hoping this weekend will be good for them. She hired therapists for all three of them after Ted died—although she doesn’t see hers as often anymore because the country didn’t necessarily allow her a mourning period—but the boys still see theirs once a week and she thinks it’s helping. The decision came after Henry yelled in the middle of a choir concert and Charlie was caught paying someone else to do his homework; she thought she could handle it on her own but she soon realized that was never going to be possible. She knows Judy spends time with both of them even though they have never talked about it. Jen realized what was happening when Henry started disappearing for a few hours every Sunday and would always come back with paint on his hands. Charlie always leaves whenever Henry gets back, making excuses about skateboarding or video games, but Jen has seen the yoga mat he takes with him and she wants to ask Judy how in the hell she ever got Charlie to agree to that.

A flash of resentment courses through her when she remembers what Steve told her; she’s been studiously avoiding Judy ever since, which probably isn’t helping the efforts to make it seem like nothing is wrong because Judy is still avoiding _her_ , albeit for entirely different reasons. Jen has been quietly seething for a week and she’s hoping this weekend will allow her some time to decompress, otherwise she’s going to fucking explode.

The helicopter begins its descent into the open field below, and Henry smiles enthusiastically, taking Jen’s mind off her worries. The second they land, Charlie and Henry bolt for the main house to unpack and change into their swimming trunks; Jen reminds them to be ready for dinner by six but they wave her off, too excited for the liminal space Camp David provides. A succession of cars makes its way in by the time Jen is settled, and the Senior Staff and campaign managers head off to settle into their cabins before they meet up for debate prep. Jen peers through her bedroom window and sees Judy laughing with Perez and Nick in the courtyard, and a spark of jealousy sprouts inside her. She may be angry, but a part of her still misses their friendship and how simple it used to be; she misses their late-night laughter and early morning rants, the freedom of total honesty Jen thought they had. 

She checks on Charlie and Henry before heading towards the makeshift debate stage they set up in the house, and she laughs when she sees they’ve managed to soak two Secret Service agents. She lets their joy carry her, hoping to retain some of it as she walks into the room they’ve managed to take over in one hour with lights and monitors and seven tons of paper. Normally Jen isn’t nervous about these things, debates being the one time she can let her anger fuel her performance, but she’s feeling slightly overwhelmed right now. She’s a sitting president and if she loses this election, it will literally haunt her for the rest of her life.

“Madam President?” Jen turns to find Christopher pointing to the makeshift stage. “We’re about ready to start, so you can go up.”

Jen plants herself behind one of the podiums as Perez settles behind the other one, standing in as her opponent.

“Alright, Hastings is going to say the word ‘liberal’ at least eleven times, and he’s definitely going to bring up abortion,” C.J. says from the moderator table. Judy is sitting next to her and they lock eyes before Jen quickly looks away.

“Would someone like to remind me how somebody like that has made it this far in a Presidential election?”

“Unfortunately racism, homophobia, and misogyny still run rampant through the great halls of our nation, ma’am.”

“Thank you for that lovely reminder, Nick. Shall we begin?”

One of Jen’s favorite things about being President is never having to cook. Dinner is served at six and Jen thanks the quiet and isolated atmosphere of the camp for making everyone take a break at the same time so they can eat at the picnic tables outside and pretend like they aren’t determining the future of the country for a little bit. She allows herself one glass of wine—otherwise she literally might not make it through the evening—and listens as Charlie and Henry tell her about one of the Secret Service agents falling into the pool on accident. Jen tries to reprimand them but she knows it’s no use when she can’t get herself to stop laughing.

“Do you think we could play basketball tomorrow? Dad used to play with us whenever we came here.”

Jen softens and rubs Charlie’s shoulder comfortingly, “Of course, baby. I would love to whoop your ass in a little b-ball.”

Charlie scoffs and rolls his eyes. Henry tires to swallow a big mouthful of mashed potatoes and Jen watches on in amusement as he struggles to get it down before speaking. “Can Judy and I go birdwatching tomorrow morning?”

If Jen was a better mother, she would be upset that Henry would prefer to birdwatch with Judy over her. Instead, she’s thankful Judy is here—even though they’re not really speaking to each other—so the boys can have a peaceful weekend not encompassed by school and grief. “Sure, honey. Just be careful, okay?”

Henry nods excitedly and runs off, most likely to let Judy know; Charlie shoves his mouth full of mashed potatoes and gives her a quick side hug when Nick offers to teach him pool, and then Jen is alone. Well, there are still a lot of people around her eating their dinner and chatting, but she _feels_ alone. She considers going back to her room and taking a quick nap before the next debate prep session, but she feels somebody slide onto the bench next to her. Jen looks up, surprised to find Judy.

“Thanks for letting me take Henry tomorrow morning.” Jen hums noncommittally, looking down at her plate. She sees Judy frown out of the corner of her eye, shoulders tensing for the inevitable. “Are you okay, Madam President?”

Jen looks up sharply, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She doesn’t wait for Judy to respond, just stands up and quickly makes her way into the main house. She can hear Judy following close behind her, footfalls on the carpet almost as fast as the beating of Jen’s heart. She makes her way upstairs and into her room, not turning around until Judy has closed the door behind them.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?”

Jen takes a centering breath and looks Judy in the eyes, voice deadly calm as she asks, “Why didn’t you tell me about you and Steve?”

“What are you…. I don’t know—”

“Do not fuck with me right now, Judy. He told me.”

Jen can see the defeat enter Judy’s body as she slumps and takes a step forward, “It was a long time ago, before he got married. It was before he even joined the ticket.”

“What the fuck, Judy? Why wouldn’t you tell me? That’s my _Vice President_ —”

“I didn’t know you were going to ask him! Once you told me he was on the short list, I immediately ended things, and that’s when he met Heidi. I swear to you, I would never jeopardize our campaign—”

“Then why didn’t you fucking _tell_ me?” Jen hates the desperation in her voice, the way the betrayal is seeping into her words, but she can’t bring herself to filter the hurt out. She wants to tell Judy this is because they’re best friends, because she thought they told each other everything no matter what, but Jen is all too aware that they both know it is so much more than that.

A knock on the door startles them both, and Jen takes it as a sign. She looks at Judy one last time before opening the door to find Perez on the other side. She notices the way Perez looks between her and Judy before settling back on Jen, “Sorry to interrupt, ma’am. I just came to tell you we’re getting ready for the next debate session.”

“Thanks, Perez. We’ll be down there in a minute.”

Perez gives a quick nod and heads back downstairs, leaving Jen and Judy to the silence they have created. Judy turns around and walks past Jen to open the door but pauses with her hand on the knob, not quite looking at Jen.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I should have. But we both know there’s another reason why you’re so upset.”

“What?”

“You’re not letting yourself feel anything, Jen. For two years you’ve been shutting everyone out and pushing all your feelings away until the only thing left is anger. And then when something happens, something that threatens this façade you’ve created, you… snap. Ted may be dead, but you’re not. You are _alive_ , so start acting like it.”

She watches as Judy leaves, her words echoing around in Jen’s head. She wants to deny everything Judy said, but she can’t; for the past two years, Jen has barely let herself feel anything outside of work and the boys, afraid to put too much of herself into something in fear it will be lost. The campaign can’t afford for her to be numb—it needs her to be vibrant, to be present, to do more than simply survive.

Jen goes downstairs and centers herself behind the podium silently. The rest of the staff is still buzzing around her, finalizing the questions for this round and getting settled in their seats. A minute later, Perez joins her on stage behind the adjacent podium and Jen signals to C.J. that they can start. The first question isn’t easy, but it isn’t hard; Perez answers first and Jen flies in with her rebuttal, stating facts and spitting fire as she lets more than just anger power her. It’s like waves—all these emotions inside her finally rolling in—and Jen stands a little taller as she finishes her remarks. The room is quiet for a few seconds as everyone in the rooms glances at each other with bright eyes, and Jen looks at Judy to find her already staring. She smiles and Jen lets a bit of warmth seep into her eyes before focusing back on C.J. Things may not be perfect between them, but somehow Jen knows they’ll be okay.

.

Jen finishes reading the memo in front of her when Abe tells her it’s time to leave for Air Force One; her and the Senior Staff are flying to New York this afternoon for the debate at Hofstra University tonight. Jen can admit she’s a little nervous, but mostly she’s excited; public speaking may not be her favorite thing in the world, but it’s undeniable that she is damn good at it. Debates are even better because it’s one of the few times in political arenas that she actually gets to express some of her opinions without purifying them at least five times beforehand.

Packing her briefcase, Jen smiles at Abe as she leaves the office, a _good luck, sweetheart!_ following her out into the halls of the West Wing. The ride to the Andrews Air Force base gives Jen time to relax before the evening, knowing it’s going to be full of nerves and pressure. She waves to the photographers lined up on the other side of the barricades as she exits the motorcade and makes her way up the steps of the plane; once inside, she lets her shoulders drop and immediately heads towards the conference room. The Senior Staff is already in there and she takes a seat as they begin briefing her on the schedule for tonight.

Jen notices Judy in the back, letting the rest of the staff take the lead, and Jen relaxes a little when Judy softly smiles at her. Things still aren’t what they were two years ago, but Jen knows they’re working towards it. The unease is gone and the playing field is leveled, Judy no longer feeling like she has to censor herself around Jen. The easy banter is still yet to fully reappear, but Jen is confident it will. She’s spent a lot of time reflecting on her friendship with Judy since Camp David, and she’s come to the conclusion she is just clouded by grief and looking for something other than the re-election to focus on. Her feelings for Judy aren’t even feelings at all, she’s decided; Judy just makes her feel safe and Jen clung onto that in the wake of Ted’s death. It’s nothing more than that, and Jen will be damned if she sabotages her friendship with Judy in any way, ever again. 

Jen snaps back into the conversation when Judy gives her a stern look, knowing Jen isn’t really listening. “And again, Madam President, _please_ don’t say anything—"

“Yeah, yeah. No fucks, damns, or shits. Thanks guys, go take your seats before we take off.” The Senior Staff starts to leave the conference room, but Jen calls for Judy to hang on.

“What’s up?”

“You brought my lucky blazer, right?”

Judy looks away for a second, eyebrows high on her forehead. “Your… what?”

“My lucky blazer? From the debate in Ohio during the first campaign? It was technically your blazer but I spilled coffee on mine and we had to—”

Judy cuts in as she remembers, “Switch right before you went on, I got it now.”

Jen waits for Judy to say something else, but she stays silent. “You brought it, right? I texted you a couple of days ago to remind you.”

“Yeah, so, about that. It’s a funny story really—”

“Judes,” Jen cuts her off, “you don’t have the blazer, do you?”

“No, no I do not. Look, I took it to the dry cleaners when I got your text but they did something wrong and it came out this bad shade of yellow—”

“It was dark green.”

“I _know_ , and I’m so sorry but I was afraid to tell you because I didn’t want to mess with your mojo before the debate.”

“My _mojo_?”

“You know, your mojo.” Judy waits for Jen to understand, but continues when her confused expression doesn’t change. “Your confidence, your gravitas, your poise.”

Jen waves a hand flippantly, “It’s fine, I’m sure my mojo can take this hit.”

“I really am sorry, Jen.”

Jen takes Judy’s hands in hers and waits until she’s stopped freaking out, “Judy, it’s okay.” They gaze at each other for a few moments before Judy takes a deep breath and nods. Jen rubs Judy’s shoulder comfortingly before she leaves, and Jen is left with a feeling deep inside her heart. She doesn’t think about it too much, afraid of finding out what the feeling is if she does.

“Five minutes, Madam President.”

Jen gives a thumbs up to the event staffer and turns back to Nick, Christopher, Perez, and C.J. as they go over last-minute prep with her.

“Ignore the attempts to lure you into a fight, this is a _debate_.”

“Remember that you want him to bring up _Roe v. Wade_ , don’t shy away from it.”

“But don’t let him tie you up in gun control, we’re saving that for the next one.”

“Make sure to bring up the new tax bill when economics is at the forefront.”

Jen stands and signals for them to quiet down, “I got it guys. Don’t worry, I’m prepared. You did a good job.”

The room is still tense but Jen tries not to let it get to her. She gives another thumbs up when the same event staffer tells her she has two minutes. Judy strides into the room with a bottle of water just then, smiling when she sees Jen. The other four leave the room ahead of them and Jen moves to follow, but stops when Judy blocks her path. Jen gives her a questioning look, but Judy just keeps smiling.

“Something wrong there, Judes?”

“Nope. I just wanted to say I’m proud of you.”

“Well, thanks.” Jen tries to step past her but Judy blocks her again. “Yes?”

“I also just wanted to say that I’m sorry again. About the blazer.”

“And I told you it’s fine, Judy. It was less about the actual blazer anyways.”

Judy tilts her head to the side, “What do you mean?”

Jen sees Nick tapping his watch in the doorway and looks back at Judy, “It was the feeling. The ‘oh shit what am I going to do’ feeling when I spilled the coffee and had to be onstage in two seconds. Pumped me up.”

Judy nods slowly and looks away, “I figured that was it.”

“Okay, well I really have to go now—”

Judy stops her with a hand on her shoulder, “You’re going to do amazing.”

“Judy, I really have to—” Jen abruptly stops when she feels cold water pour down the front of her body. She jumps back a bit, arms out to the side, and looks down to see her entire shirt and most of her blazer soaked. She looks back up at Judy furiously, but finds her smiling mischievously with a now-empty bottle of water in her hand. “Oh my god, you’re… what in the actual fuck… Perez! C.J.! _Anybody_ , get these clothes off me!”

Jen rushes into the hallway with Judy hot on her heels, the rest of the staff panicking when they see her front dripping wet. She starts ripping the blazer off her shoulders as Christopher tries to unbutton her shirt, stumbling over each other as they continue down the corridor.

Perez maneuvers Jen as she tries to rip her shirt off, “What the hell happened?”

“My Chief of Staff is dead to me, that’s what.”

Jen hears Judy laugh behind her but it’s cut short when C.J. tells her to start stripping. Jen is fully aware that she’s half naked and rushing through the hallways of the Hofstra University convention center, but there’s too much adrenaline coursing through her to be insecure. Normally her and the Senior Staff are a well-oiled machine when they walk and talk at the same time, but right now they’re tripping each other and bumping into doors, sheer terror enclosing them all in a small bubble. Nick slides Judy’s blouse onto her shoulders and Perez is right behind her with Judy’s blazer, and she faintly hears C.J. yelling something about camera tests. A door momentarily halts their progress but they manage to keep Jen moving as someone calls out _ten seconds!_

Jen finishes doing the last button when they reach the side of the stage, taking a deep breath as she hears the announcer call out her name. The crowd cheers and right before she steps out, Jen turns around and takes Judy’s face into her hands. “Don’t think you’re off the hook, my friend.”

Jen quickly kisses her cheek and feels the corner of Judy’s lips on hers. She immediately turns back around and climbs the few steps onto the stage, glancing back at Judy one more time and smirking at the blush covering her face.

.

“Hunker down, my bros. It’s about to be a long night.” Jen sighs and throws a report and her glasses down on her desk.

Christopher turns around, a withering glare on his face. “Oh, so you wouldn’t say ‘woke’ in the State of the Union but you’ll say, ‘my bros’?”

Jen steps around her desk and makes her way to the chairs and couches in the middle of the room. “I’m sorry, are we in the Senate Chamber? Because I could’ve sworn we were in the Oval Office.”

Perez rushes into the Oval Office and puts her hand on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. “Exit polls… in Georgia… show we’re leading.”

Nick stands and hugs her, “Hell yeah! Now _that_ is what I’m talking about.”

Jen points a warning finger at him, “Don’t jinx it Nicholas, or I will make you go outside in the freezing cold and throw salt over your fucking shoulder."

“Yes, Madam President.”

The door connecting Jen’s office to Judy flies open and Judy runs in, “We’re leading in Georgia!”

Nick cuts in before Jen can, “She’ll make you salt the sidewalks if you’re not careful.”

Judy looks around in confusion but Jen just shakes her head. This election night is drastically from their first one, and Jen is almost sure she’s more scared this time around. Losing four years ago is a kick in the shin, yeah; losing tonight would be catastrophically mortifying. She hasn’t let on, trying to keep up the morale as the rest of the West Wing sits on the edges of their seats and chews their fingernails off. Every television in the entire White House is turned on to one of the news stations covering the election, and the anxiety seeps in a little more every time Jen sees a flash of the election map with its red and blue states. The Senior Staff is called away by their assistants and Jen the moment as reprieve. She knows Judy is going to know something is wrong, so she braces herself for the inevitable questioning. Jen is surprised when Judy doesn’t say anything, just walks over to the bar cart and pours Jen a glass of whiskey and hands it to her wordlessly. Jen raises an eyebrow as she looks at Judy and takes the proffered glass.

“A little liquid courage never hurt anyone.”

“I don’t think that’s true, but thank you.”

Judy laughs and walks towards her office, throwing over her shoulder, “Come find me if you need anything else.”

Two hours later Jen is sitting behind her desk with her feet propped up, shoveling fried rice into her mouth. She acts as spectator to the debate her staff is having on the couches in between egg rolls and fortune cookies, and Jen thinks she should take a picture of this moment. Christopher is bouncing in his seat and Nick keeps pointing around wildly, and Jen honestly doesn’t know what they’re even talking about. She spaced out a good twenty minutes ago, captivated by Judy as she talks with her hands. It’s becoming habit, and this is one thing Jen hasn’t been able to shove down with the rest of her feelings. They really should be in one of the rooms with twenty news stations playing like they were four years ago, but Jen doesn’t feel like putting up a joyful front in front of everyone. Jen has a good view of the television next to Abe’s desk, and she chokes on her next bite when she notices they’re about to declare the victory for Pennsylvania. Jen immediately stands and the rest of the Senior Staff instinctually follows her, crowding around the small screen as Pennsylvania suddenly turns blue. Jen turns to Judy as the others cheer, mouth dropping as she realizes what this means.

“Judy… Pennsylvania has twenty electoral votes.”

“I _know_.”

“Judy, I only needed twelve more to win.”

“I know! You’re going to be President!”

“I already am, but I will be again!”

Judy hugs her and Jen holds on tight, allowing the triumph to wash over both of them. She can hear the rest of the West Wing applauding as Charlie and Henry run through the patio doors and into her arms. They whisper their congratulations in her ear and she tells them to change into their suits for when she gives her speech, telling them she’ll meet them in the motorcade. She feels Judy’s hand on her lower back as she watches the boys run back to the Residence, and it gives Jen the strength she needs to get through the rest of the night before she can go to bed.

Jen doesn’t process changing outfits or getting in the motorcade or arriving at the convention center or even giving her speech—it’s like she blacked out. The only way she knows she did a good job on delivery is the cheers and claps from the crowd. She steps off to the side and waves, sincerely smiling as she lets it sink in that she gets to do this for another four years. She turns to the wings of the stage and signals for Charlie and Henry to join her, and she can’t help but feel an ache as she remembers the last time they did this. Ted was genuinely happy for her that night, celebrating her accomplishment every step of the way; Jen misses his presence and support, even if it started to lack after Inauguration.

The crowd gets louder when Charlie and Henry reach her, the two of them smiling as they hug her. Jen remembers when they told her how special this made them feel four years ago, like it was a celebration for all of them. Jen leans down and whispers to them, _It’s still for you too._ Henry hugs her tighter and Charlie squeezes her hand, and she thinks for a second that maybe she isn’t completely failing as a mother. She sees a flash of white in the wings and notices Judy standing in the shadows, clapping and smiling as she looks as the three of them on stage. Jen makes a split-second decision and waves at Judy to join them, waving harder when Judy shakes her head no. She sees C.J. lean down and whisper something in Judy’s ear, no doubt saying something about not making the President look stupid onscreen as she seemingly waves at nothing. Judy timidly steps onstage a few seconds later, taking Jen’s outstretched hand.

Judy leans in close, whispering, “What are you doing?”

Jen just smiles and looks out over the crowd as she responds, “I wouldn’t want to be up here with anyone else.”

Charlie and Henry fall asleep in the car on the way back, exhausted by the late hour and the events of the night. Jen wishes she could sleep, but she’s still buzzing from the energy winning supplied her with, fidgeting her hands as the sights of D.C. pass her by. They arrive at the White House not that much later and the boys are grumpy as they slide out of the motorcade and make their way to the Residence in the late hour. Jen takes the time to tuck Henry in but she’s pretty sure he’s been sleepwalking for the past hour, and even Charlie doesn’t protest when Jen tells him he shouldn’t stay up any later.

Her mood dissipates when she enters her room, the dark and empty air reminding her that above all else, she is still alone. At least four years ago she had Ted and he pretended he loved her for a night, but _now_ —not even the high of being President for another four years can get her to the bathroom without tears making their way down her cheeks. It’s not that she wants Ted to be the person she shares all of this with—he’s dead and she’s grieved—but she missed the ability to share this in the first place. Someone to hug her and tell her they’re proud and they can’t wait to see what she’s going to do with time she’s been given to help change the world.

Methodically washing her face and brushing her teeth, Jen continues to feel the loneliness of this part of the night wash over her. There’s a knock on the door right as she finishes pulling up her sweatpants, and she yells out a confirmation for whoever it is to come in. The door opens and Judy sticks her head in, eyebrows raised in question. Jen waves her in and smiles, feeling a bit of comfort wash over her as Judy smiles back.

“I know it’s late and you probably want to go to bed, but I just wanted to tell you, um…” She trails off and looks to the side.

“Jude?”

Judy turns back at her, a blush covering her face as she steps closer and takes Jen’s hand in her own. “I just wanted to say that I am so proud of you, and you are one of the best people I’ve ever known.”

Somehow, after everything, Judy still knows exactly what she needs at any given point. Jen shakes her head and looks down but Judy squeezes her hand, and Jen looks back up. She searches Judy’s eyes but she doesn’t know what for; all she sees is sincerity and something gentle, something soft. Jen feels a warmth build in her chest, slowly spreading throughout her body as she keeps hold of Judy’s hand. The warmth morphs into something else—something new—and Jen’s not sure what it is, but she knows damn well that all she wants to do right now is kiss Judy. So she does.

She knows Judy is surprised, but it doesn’t take long for her to respond. The kiss is sweet, almost chaste, and Jen revels in it before she parts her lips and deepens it. It feels like their kiss in Judy’s office, but Jen doesn’t want this one grounded in the memory of her flight so she grabs the back of Judy’s neck and pulls her close until their bodies are pressed against each other and they’re left gasping for air. Judy pulls away but stays close, silently asking Jen a question neither of them have an answer to. Jen waits—giving Judy an out if she wants to take it—and then Judy is pulling her closer and bringing her mouth back to Jen’s. It feels like permission and something snaps inside of Jen, long repressed desires rushing to the surface as her and Judy stand in the middle of her bedroom and make out like they will never get this chance again; if Jen had time to think, she might realize she’s afraid they won’t.

She doesn’t remember moving to the bed or even laying down on top of it, but Judy is underneath her and they’re still kissing and now Jen has a hand on Judy’s thigh as she pulls it up and over her hip; there’s a moan, and Jen’s not sure who it came from. Judy’s hands roam over her back and edge Jen’s t-shirt up inch by inch until Judy is grabbing the bottom and waiting for permission. Jen sits up and allows Judy to take it off, hit with insecurity when it’s already on the floor. This is the first time in years Jen has been touched by anybody, and the first time since her surgery she’s been touched with reverence. If this were anybody else, Jen might’ve insisted her shirt stay on, but this is _Judy_ —her best friend, her advisor, the person she trusts most in the world. The anxiety leaves Jen as Judy sits up and kisses across her chest, marking territory no one has ever dared claim before; as Judy kisses up her neck, Jen reaches behind Judy, unzipping her dress and unhooking her bra.

Their clothes create puddles on the floor and Jen wraps the sheets around them, willing herself to stop overthinking; her job requires it, but Judy doesn’t. She places a kiss somewhere on Judy’s body each time her brain threatens to make her think this through, and her mouth reaches Judy’s inner thigh by the time her entire body has short-circuited at the sight of a panting Judy, hand grasping the headboard, naked in her bed. Jen’s not really sure what she’s doing, but she’s determined to make Judy feel good and to keep making that _sound_ come out of her mouth—it’s a mix of a whimper and the word _fuck_ , and it keeps making Jen’s toes curl. It’s like the air around them is rarified, the two of them encased in something extraordinary.

Jen figures Judy must be really wound up because the first time she puts her mouth on her, Judy very nearly screams. She moves her tongue in circles, finding the rhythm that makes Judy tighten her grasp on the sheets and Jen’s hair, wincing when Judy pulls hard after one particular swipe of her tongue—but Jen relishes it. She glances up as she pushes two fingers inside Judy, never slowing, and sees Judy throw her head back in pleasure; Jen very nearly comes at the sight, unable to believe this is how she’s celebrating her win tonight. She keeps her pace as she feels Judy tensing under touch, and it’s almost like Jen can feel the pleasure coiling inside Judy. Moments later it releases, Judy arching her back and letting out a long moan before whispering something that sounds like Jen’s name.

Jen gives her a few minutes to recover, slowly kissing up Judy’s body as she comes down. The skin underneath her mouth and fingers is so soft, and Jen can’t believe she’s never realized just how graceful Judy is. Passion still rules their movements, but right underneath is something Jen isn’t ready to name, a tenderness she thinks has long been burrowed deep in her soul. She lays down beside Judy, watching her catch her breath in the glow of the bedside lamp. Judy looks at her then—fulfilled and hungry all at once—and Jen is on her back before she knows it, Judy on top of her and trailing her tongue across Jen’s neck. Judy lowers her hand and Jen gasps at the first touch, groaning when Judy’s touch grows in confidence. Judy begins to kiss down her body but Jen stops her, gently pulling Judy back up and shaking her head. She kisses away Judy’s frown and maintains their eye contact as she brings Judy’s hand back to where Jen needs her, sighing as the pleasure begins to build again.

Jen inhales sharply when Judy pushes her fingers inside her, instinctively clutching Judy’s shoulders and scratching her fingernails down the length of her back. Jen almost shuts her eyes but she keeps looking at Judy, allowing vulnerability to drive her over the edge just this once; her breathing halts as a flood of gratification courses through her body, expletives falling out of her mouth. Judy watches her the entire time, never once taking her eyes off Jen’s face.

They lay facing each other afterwards, hands intertwined as they begin to fall asleep. It’s the last thing she wants to do, but Jen knows they will need to discuss this in the morning as the fresh light of day disturbs the peace they’ve created tonight. She tries to shut her mind off for now though, still holding on to Judy’s hand as she closes her eyes and dreams of different realities where everything isn’t so complicated.

Sunlight is the first thing Jen registers when she opens her eyes in the morning, and a warm body behind her is the second. She has a moment of panic—Ted is dead so who the fuck is in her bed—but she relaxes when she remembers the events of the night before. It almost causes her to stiffen, but she manages to remains calm in order to not wake Judy. She told the staff to have a late start today, predicting many hangovers, so she has another hour or so before she needs to head to the Oval Office.

Judy stirs a few minutes later and Jen waits for her, turning over as Judy pulls away to stretch. She finds Judy already smiling at her, and Jen can’t help but smile back despite her nerves for what happens next. She has no idea how to navigate this, has no fucking clue where to even begin. Judy must sense it, because she grabs Jen’s hand and whispers a _good morning._

“So we should probably talk?”

Judy nods, “That seems like a good idea.”

“So… fuck. I honestly don’t know what to say.” Jen rolls onto her back and looks at the ceiling, embarrassed by her inability to talk about her emotions.

Judy rubs her hand up and down Jen’s arm, whispering “How do you feel?”

“What?” Jen’s taken aback, doesn’t remember the last time someone asked her that.

“You must have some feelings regarding last night. What are they?”

Jen can feel her face burning as she mumbles, “I, um, liked it.”

“And?” Judy sits up and rests her head on her hand, raising one eyebrow. 

“That’s it. I liked it.”

Judy steels her face in exasperation, “Jen.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say here, Judy. I liked it and I want to do it again.”

“You do?”

“Well, I mean, yeah. It was nice,” Jen finishes lamely, wincing.

“Just nice?”

“Judes.”

“Right, sorry.”

Jen turns her head to look at Judy, “How do _you_ feel?”

“I had a good time, and would also like to do it again,” Judy says, smirking.

Jen smirks back, letting the memory of last night sit in something that feels good before they move on to the inevitable. “So where does this leave us?”

“In a very delicate situation.”

“That’s an understatement. Should we… you know… talk about our feelings, or something?” Jen turns back to the ceiling.

“Probably. Do you want me to go first?” Jen nods. “I like you—”

“I would hope so.”

“— _and_ I really want to see where this goes.”

“I like you too.” Jen turns her whole body to face Judy, taking her hand in a moment of bravery. She knows she likes Judy—has liked her for twenty odd years—but this is different. Before, when she looked at Judy, it was with admiration; now, it’s something closer to adoration. For the last four years, without even realizing it, Judy has become her touchstone. Between political crises and personal devastation, Judy has become the one constant Jen can rely on. Even when things were stilted and distant, in the back of Jen’s mind she always knew she could go to Judy if she really needed her and it would be like they were twenty-four years old again and had their whole lives ahead of them.

Jen is hit with the full realization of what’s happening just then, that her and Judy are actually doing _this_. She’s spent the past couple of years lying to herself and trying to shove down any and all feelings she has for Judy, and she begins to panic in the face of it all coming to the fruition. Judy must sense it, because right then she squeezes Jen’s hand and pulls her closer.

“We don’t have to decide anything right now. Neither of us has much time for, well, anything, so why don’t we just see where this goes?”

Jen lets a slow breath, deciding to take the leap. “I’d like that.”

.

The couch in Judy’s office, Jen’s shower, a wall in the Lincoln Bedroom. Air Force One, the kitchen island in the Residence, and even the floor of the Mural Room late one night after a particularly rough Cabinet meeting. Jen has had sex with Judy in all of these places and rides the high every time. Most of the time it’s in Jen’s bed, but every now and then they will find themselves in a not so discreet location with a burning low in their bodies. It’s exhilarating and Jen thinks she’s never had this much fun in her life, telling whatever Secret Service agents are on her detail to wait outside as she drags Judy behind a closed door and kisses her senseless. Judy gives as good as she gets though, and Jen always walks out of rooms with a flush all over her body and a new mark somewhere, always out of sight.

It’s surprising how often they find time for it—or rather make time for it—because the country sure hasn’t slowed down in the wake of their newfound desires. Jen often finds, however, that the stress from their jobs only fuels the fire of their bodies; thrusts and bites are punctuated with Congress not passing their healthcare reform bill, hands and abdomens covered in the frustration of foreign oil disputes. Sometimes moans are _fuck the House_ and _I hate politics_ , cries of pleasure coalescing with the irritation infecting them. It’s one of the best stress relievers Jen has ever experienced, and she’s almost afraid by how much she’s come to rely on Judy. It’s not even just the sex for Jen, it’s the way the two of them have found the familiarity they lost all those years ago. Sometimes they come together and it’s not fervent and charged, it’s slow and loving; sometimes they come together and don’t have sex at all, just hold each other as they fall asleep. That part is something they never talked about when they discussed this evolution in their relationship, and Jen chalks it up to them finally being comfortable with each other again after Jen fucked it up.

Surprisingly, the thrill never dies down as the weeks pass, leading up the new year and Inauguration Day. Senior Staff meetings are more entertaining when she remembers what Judy looks like underneath her dresses and blazers, knowing she is able to turn Judy on with one look. The Situation Room seems slightly less intimidating when she knows Judy would be more than willing for them to take a break and go to the Residence after so Jen can feel in control of something. Strategic decisions are easier to make when Judy advises her like she always has and rewards Jen for her astuteness with orgasms and laughter. Christmas was particularly fun when Judy accompanied her to Jen’s house in Laguna, the whole day after opening presents lost to each other in bed. Somehow, this whole thing with Judy makes her job—her _life_ —easier. Jen has never had this, has never had someone to help her carry the weight that always seems to sit on her shoulders. It makes Jen feel like she’s falling into something, but she never allows herself to figure out what exactly it is. She likes what they have right now too much, doesn’t want it to change.

Jen leaves the Situation Room and heaves a sigh of relief, glad the North Korean threat is neutralized—for now. Meeting with the Joint Chiefs always intimidates her, never getting easier even as she rolls into the fifth year of her Presidency. Judy falls into step beside her and they talk about something stupid Nick did this morning that prompted C.J. to retaliate by supergluing everything in his office, needing to discuss something other than the wellbeing of the nation in their hands. They pass interns running down hallways with stacks of paper in their hands, Secret Service agents whispering into their cufflinks, staffers pouring their third cup of coffee; Jen marvels at the idea that she gets to see this all again for another term, that she gets to do more good things with the people right here in this very building.

They pass Abe on their way into the Oval Office and he gives each of them a cookie, but their good mood abruptly ends when they find Perez waiting for them. Jen shoves the cookie into her mouth as she walks to her desk and sits down, preparing for whatever news she’s about to hear, Judy moving to stand near her.

“I just got a phone call. Justice Alexander passed away a few minutes ago from a stroke.”

Jen lets out a long breath, “Oh shit.”

“We didn’t think we would get a Supreme Court appointment while we were in office.”

“Nobody did. We need to start putting together a list of candidates right away so we can start vetting. It’s going to take us a bit,” Perez asserts.

“Work with Judy on it. Give me a few minutes, I’m going to call his family.”

The two of them nod and start heading towards Judy’s office, Jen barely catching Judy’s soft _Thank you, Madam President_ as she closes the door after her.

Jen stares at the pen in her hand, considering throwing it across the room. The budget report is giving her a headache and there’s nothing she wants more than to sign an executive order saying the President shouldn’t be required to read three-hundred-page reports. She hasn’t seen Judy all day—she’s been holed up in her office with the rest of the Senior Staff trying to put together a list of possible Supreme Court nominations—and it’s starting to dawn on her that Judy’s presence is something she has come to rely on. It makes her breathing quicken because of the possible meaning of why that is, and she spends the next few minutes trying to calm herself by repeating _just seeing where this goes, no expectations_. When her breathing is finally under control and it no longer feels like her mind is running a mile a minute, Jen suddenly realizes that the one thing that has never occurred to her is what this means about… _her_. And her sexuality. She’s spent so long trying to ignore the way Judy makes her feel that she never took the time to realize that Judy is a _woman_. Well, of course Judy is a woman, but Jen has never done that before—the whole experimenting thing. She met Ted kind of young and it’s not something she consciously set out on doing in her college years. Despite the initial shock, Jen is amazed to find that it doesn’t distress her as much as it could have; this is Judy, and nothing involving her could be considered a crisis.

Judy bursts through their connecting door unannounced just then, vaulting Jen out of her thoughts. Judy is all energy and quick strides, crossing over to Jen’s desk and setting a folder down in front of her. “We’ve managed to get a short list put together, so here’s that.”

Jen puts on her glasses and opens as the folder as she asks, “Who’s the first draft pick?”

“Hernandez.”

Jen looks up, surprised. “Really? I thought it would’ve been Clayborn.”

“Perez thought so too, but I think Hernandez has something Clayborn doesn’t.” Jen raises a questioning eyebrow. “Pizazz.”

“You’re not honestly telling me to pick a Supreme Court nominee based on how much _pizazz_ they have, are you?”

Judy falters, “Yes and no. While I genuinely believe Hernandez has more, she’s also more qualified.”

“Both her and Clayborn graduated from Harvard Law and have spent the past few decades as federal judges,” Jen argues.

“Clayborn is virtually perfect on paper, I will admit that, but Hernandez has character. She has good morals and her track record is amazing.”

“So is Clayborn’s.”

Judy frowns and clasps her hands together in front of her. “You seriously think Clayborn should be our number one?”

Crossing her arms, Jen sighs. “Yes, Judy. He would get through Congress in a landslide. That kind of victory is exactly what we need right now, especially since the last polls came out and Inauguration is next week.”

“You’re seriously basing your Supreme Court nomination on what will make you look good?” Judy echoes her, and Jen feels a tide of anger starting to form.

“That’s not what I said.”

“It might as well have been—”

“You know what? I don’t want to talk about this anymore, I’m going up to the Residence.” Jen makes a point not to look at Judy as she gathers the papers she’ll finish reading in her study, afraid of what she will do if she lets herself. This is the first disagreement they’ve had in a while, and the first one since they started doing… whatever it is they’re doing. Jen crosses the room and leaves through the patio doors, not stopping to ask Judy if she would like to join her like she usually does.

.

Jen swallows the aspirin Abe hands her, hoping relief will come soon. Not only is her head pounding, but she slept on her back wrong and it’s been screaming in protest all morning.

“Those things will ruin your liver, you know.”

“Well, it’s either that or a bottle of wine and both happen to hurt the liver.”

Abe ignores her irritated tone and rubs a comforting hand on her shoulder instead, leaving a moment later. Jen leans back in her chair and closes her eyes, willing herself to not have a breakdown in the Oval Office. These past few days have been tense, her and Judy never resolved their argument and they’re back to how they were right before Camp David; on top of that, Jen still has to make a decision about her Supreme Court appointee and Inauguration is days away. She should’ve known the good stuff wasn’t going to last, she always does something to ruin it.

Abe sticks his head in the door, letting her know the Senior Staff is outside. She lets him know she’s ready for them, and she waits as they all file into her office. They update her on today’s issues: Perez and Judy still vetting potential nominations, C.J. hoarding off the press about who it might be, and Christopher and Nick finishing up the Inaugural speech. The meeting is void of their usual banter and bickering, and Jen assumes they can see the exhaustion evident on her face. The meeting ends a few minutes later and Jen is grateful for the solitude once more; she notices Judy as she leaves, tension visible in her shoulders. She knows they have to talk, and she knows it has to be soon.

She knocks softly on Judy’s door, waiting for the okay to go in. Jen opens the door to find Judy sitting on the couch in her office, lit only by the lamp in the corner as the sun finishes its descent. It’s painfully similar to the night this whole thing with her and Judy started—all those years ago—and Jen forces the memory out of her mind. Judy goes to stand but Jen stops her, sitting down beside her instead. There’s a brief hush as neither of them say anything, and Jen can’t bring herself to look at Judy.

“This can’t work.”

“No.”

Jen wishes Judy would have put up more of fight, but she’s too good at her job for that. They both know that they’re too entangled, that there needs to be distance. Judy can’t properly advise her if this goes on any longer, and Jen can’t properly lead; there’s too many obstacles, and neither know how to overcome them. “I wish things were different.”

“Me too, Madam President.” 

Jen looks at her then, fighting the urge to pull Judy closer. “I don’t want to be the President right now, Judy. I want to be Jen. I want it to be me and you.”

Judy smiles sadly, taking Jen’s hand in her own. “You’ll always be Jen to me, but right now you need to be more than that.”

Jen doesn’t say anything for a minute, letting herself regret her choices for once. “I’m nominating Hernandez.”

“Jen, don’t do that just because—”

“You were right. She’s the better candidate.”

Judy nods, silence settling over them once again. Jen squeezes her hand once, standing up and taking one last look at Judy on the couch. This has always been her favorite Judy, and she makes herself burn the image into her mind. Jen leaves, softly closing the door behind her and willing the tears not to fall until she’s in the safety of her own bedroom.

.

Jen eyes the bar cart in the corner of her office and briefly considers pouring herself a glass of whiskey before she remembers it’s nine in the morning. She had the Senior Staff meet before she has to head over to the National Mall for the swearing in and the speech. She’s unnaturally nervous, which is weird because this is her second time around and she has a better handle on what the fuck she’s doing at any given moment. Maybe it’s because her approval ratings have dropped slightly, maybe it has nothing to do with the Presidency at all. Jen slyly glances at Judy and feels an ache in her bones.

“I’m getting a lot of questions in the briefing room about our nomination.”

“We need to keep this thing under wraps until the official announcement. No leaks, C.J.,” Perez warns.

“The vetting process for Hernandez is nearly finished, we should be done by tomorrow,” Nick chimes in. Jen notices he looks pretty tired, and she makes a mental note to check on him later in the day.

“Clean slate so far?”

“Madam President, let’s just say I’d ask for her hand in marriage if I wasn’t gay,” Christopher responds, and Jen can’t help but laugh out loud.

“I’m sure she’s thanking her lucky stars.”

Christopher glares at her playfully, and she ends the meeting with high fives and proclamations for everyone to get out and not be late for their big day. Jen tries to exude more bravado than she feels, but she knows Judy can tell she’s nervous when she hugs Jen after everyone else has already left. Jen allows it, gives herself this one thing, and then pushes Judy out the door and tells her not to forget her gloves.

Charlie and Henry smile at her when she joins them in the motorcade and she feels the sting of guilt; she hasn’t seen them as much as she would like lately, caught up in different versions of crises. She asks them if they want to ditch the last Inaugural Ball after they make their initial appearance and watch the new superhero movie that just came out; Henry replies enthusiastically and Charlie gives her a shrug and a _sure_ , but she can see his smile when he looks back out the window. It hasn’t been easy for any of them since Ted died, but she thinks she’s doing okay with them for now.

The winter air is biting and Jen wishes she had remembered her own gloves, but smiles through it all the same. Charlie holds the Bible for her now since Ted isn’t here, and she feels pride overwhelm her when she notices the young man he is starting to become. Judy comes up to her afterwards and slips a few handwarmers in her coat pockets before leaving again, and Jen has never been more grateful in her life to get rear ended by somebody. The podium looks out over the crowd, every inch of the National Mall covered with faces and names she won’t remember tomorrow. It puts butterflies in her stomach, knowing that even though her approval ratings are lower, all of these people here support her. She looks at the teleprompter and begins her speech, hitting the pauses and acing the inflections. The applause when she finishes is gratifying, and Jen thinks _yeah, maybe I can do this another four years._

She’s ushered away towards the awaiting motorcade when she’s done, and Judy appears by her side. She didn’t remember her gloves and Jen knew she wouldn’t, so she takes the handwarmers out of her pockets and slips them into Judy’s.

“You did good up there.”

Jen chuckles and waves at the people she passes, waving signs and shouting out congratulations. “I just said what Nick and Christopher told me to say.”

“And it wouldn’t be the same without your agenda and your delivery.”

Jen rolls her eyes, “Sure.” Judy grabs her hand and pointedly looks at her, and Jen has the urge to kiss her so she waves at the crowd again instead. She looks back as Judy slows and her hand begins to fall out of Jen’s. Pausing her steps, Jen rekindles her grasp on Judy’s and offers an olive branch, “I’ll meet you back there?”

Judy smiles and lets go of her hand, walking backwards as she declares, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Judy turns around and continues towards the car that carries the Senior Staff, and Jen watches her leave. Shaking her head as if to rid her feelings for Judy, Jen turns around towards the rope lines and waves a final time at all the people cheering for her. She doesn’t normally like praise—even when she does a good thing, she insists she’s just doing her job—but sometimes moments like these cement themselves inside her memory and she looks back at them later, knowing there are some lives she is changing for the better. Charlie and Henry are already in the motorcade and they’re complaining about the cold, but Jen shushes them and exclaims she has to give her fans _something_. Charlie rolls his eyes and Henry mutters _I didn’t know you had fans_. Jen lets it slide this one time.

She can tell the Secret Service agents are getting antsy—usually they have more protection when she’s outside like this—but Jen can’t help herself. She just committed to another four years of this and did a damn good job with the speech, she’s going to let this moment live on as long as she can. She looks to her left and notices Judy patiently waiting in line as the Senior Staff packs themselves into the stretched limo that will take them back to the White House where, thank god, many glasses of champagne await them. Jen is unable to stop the smile from forming on her face, and she turns back to wave one last time.

At first, the shots don’t register. They kind of sound like a car backfiring or a firework going off. The crowds of people make it hard to hear anything, but the bangs make themselves heard. She’s being pushed down and into the car by somebody, she thinks it’s Jack. He has a wife and a new kid at home, remembers the picture he proudly produced from his wallet as he retired from his shift outside her bedroom door the other night. Hands are grabbing at her shoulders—they feel small so they must be Charlie or Henry’s—and she trips backwards and hits her head on something. Jen vaguely hears screaming, like it’s coming from far away, and she pulls her legs inside the car on instinct when she sees a Secret Service agent slamming the door closed behind him as he covers her body with his. Right before it shuts she hears Jack yelling into his cufflink, _Eagle inside, Pinball down. I repeat, Eagle inside and Pinball down._

Her mind is on fire, and she’s not sure what’s going on—if _anyone_ knows what’s going on. Charlie and Henry are freaking out and she absentmindedly pulls them close and rubs her hands up and down their backs. The Secret Service agent in the car is patting his hands over her body, checking for injuries, and she remembers his name is Alister and it’s his first month on the job. When he’s sure she’s not in immediate danger, directing the driver to head straight for the back entrance of the Residence, Jack’s words run through her mind again. _Eagle inside, Pinball down_. Pinball, Pinball… Jen suddenly recalls the conversation her and the Senior Staff had in the Oval Office the night Ted died. It was about their Secret Service codenames. She’s trying to remember who Pinball is—they were about to change the names—but her mind is swimming and she’s having trouble focusing. They have a codename so that means they’re in her inner circle, which is the first blow to her psyche. It’s not until they’ve made it down the street and around the corner that it clicks inside Jen’s brain.

Judy. Pinball is _Judy_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry.


	3. term two, year one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i pumped this baby out as soon as i could! here is an insight as to what a president should do, say, and act like. mostly. 
> 
> tw// there are a few relating to the end of the last chapter and minor trauma that comes with that, so tread carefully if that might affect you in any harmful way <3

It takes Jen twenty minutes to convince the head of Secret Service to take her to George Washington University Hospital after it took her ten seconds to find out that’s where they took Judy. Charlie and Henry are attached to her hip so she brings them with her, and if she’s being honest she doesn’t want them out of her sight either. She holds their hands in the motorcade and all three of them are crying, but no one says anything. They’re an anchor for her as much as she is for them, and then she quietly apologizes that this is bringing up bad memories. Henry just hugs her and Charlie shakes his head,  _ it’s not your fault, Mom _ . 

Except it is, this whole thing is her fault. If she hadn’t stopped to wave, if she had invited Judy to ride with her, if she hadn’t stopped to fucking  _ wave _ —

The car skids to a halt and Jen is dragged out of the car and into the wings of the hospital. There’s commotion everywhere and Jen feels a little sick, so she makes sure Charlie and Henry are right behind her and searches for a face she knows. Secret Service directs her to a private waiting room they’ve already swept and Jen opens the door to find her Senior Staff. They all look up, surprised she’s there, and wordlessly they stand up and Jen hugs them—all of them—and ignores the blood on Nick’s hands. She tells Charlie and Henry to go sit and wait on the other side of the room as she’s updated on how Judy’s doing. They all stay close together, heads bowed as C.J. murmurs,  _ they just brought her into surgery, it hit near her shoulder, there was an exit wound.  _

Jen tries to take a centering breath and feels Perez’s hand on her back, rubbing slightly. Christopher hands her a bottle of water and Jen takes it but doesn’t drink, gripping the plastic in between her fingers until she can feel it give way. She takes a second to look at her staff surrounding her, concern written all over their faces, and lets herself feel the relief their safety brings. Then she notices blood on Nick’s shirt too, and the tears that fall feel like sin. 

Two hours later, Jen is sitting at a table on one side of the room with her head in her hands. The tears have stopped for now, and all she’s left with is an enormous amount of guilt and anxiety. The head of Secret Service just briefed her—they found the guy in a diner twenty miles north and apprehended him. His motives are unclear as of right now, but Jen thinks it might have something to do with the fact that she’s a woman who just beat a misogynistic, racist asshole in a run for the most powerful position in the country. She knew there would be people like that, but she didn’t know they would do this.

Jen feels someone sit next to her and looks through her hands to find C.J. “A junior staffer did the initial press briefing, so I should get back there for the next one.” Jen nods but doesn’t say anything. She almost wants to tell C.J. no, she can’t leave, she needs all the people she loves with her in the same place so no one else can get hurt—but she doesn’t. They all have jobs to do. “She’ll be okay, Madam President. She’ll pull through.”

Jen tries to believe C.J., she really does, but it’s hard. She hasn’t seen Judy since the rope line and now she’s in surgery, and this all feels like some sick joke. She’s lost Judy before but not like this, never like this. Jen watches as C.J. says goodbye to Perez, a brief display of affection that they usually never commit when on the job—which is almost all the time and Jen feels another sort of guilt—and there’s a sudden jealousy hammering through her. C.J. and Perez have to be careful, but they have something to be careful about; Jen barely got that with Judy, they ended almost before beginning. It’s not fair, and this is the first time Jen actually regrets her job and all the consequences that come with it. It’s isolating and the worst kind of loneliness—the one where you’re surrounded by people you love and trust, but only to a certain degree. There is always a line, a modicum of deference that always needs to be held, and there’s really nothing Jen can do about it because she’s President of the United States. 

Her vision abruptly tunnels and it’s kind of hard to breathe, everything going a bit fuzzy. She splays her hands before clenching them into fists and digging her fingernails into skin, but then a hand is prying them open and Christopher is whispering in her ear. Jen doesn’t really know what he’s saying but it seems to be helping, and her vision clears a minute later and she can take a deep breath. Her first instinct is to push him away after, to rein in the vulnerability and let a hard exterior get her through this; then Jen remembers when Ted died, how she had tried toughing it at first and then broke down in front of Judy one night and how it felt so  _ good _ . That was the night Jen learned pain is not cathartic, but letting yourself feel it is. She lets Christopher hold her hand for a little bit longer, leans her shoulder against his, and smiles at him when she feels some of the burden lighten. 

The doctor enters the room and Jen is immediately on her feet, hands wringing as everyone else joins her. The doctor introduces herself and Jen fights the urge to hurry her along, and then the doctor—whose name Jen has already forgotten—asks if Judy has a next of kin or any family that needs to be notified. A jail cell flashes through her mind and Jen quietly responds, “Her mom is… no, she doesn’t. It’s just me.”

The doctor nods and says Judy is still in surgery but it’s going very well so far, and the sheer amount of relief is enough to make her sit down and hide a smile behind her hand because  _ Judy is going to be okay _ . Judy isn’t going to die, and Jen isn’t going to lose another person she loves. Then the doctor says something about Jack and Jen’s smile fades. 

“Wait, what did you say about Jack?”

Perez looks at Nick and Christopher before turning back to Jen, “Madam President, we thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Jack Whitlock sustained a gunshot wound to the chest,” the doctor cuts in. 

“Is he going to be okay?”

The doctor looks nervous and Jen feels her stomach drop. “He just died in surgery, ma’am. By the time he was brought in, he had already lost a lot of blood. The bullet hit his left lung and the surgeons couldn’t repair the damage that had already been done.”

Jen thinks she might throw up and she feels so  _ stupid _ . She has to be the worst fucking person in the world, there was a whole crowd of people and at least fifty Secret Service agents, of course Judy wasn’t the only shot. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind in the last three hours and this has to be a sign of some sort that she is the vilest kind of human. Jack had a wife and a kid, and Jen wishes she could do something besides a phone call and a house visit, a nice little message sent from her office that says  _ sorry your husband died while protecting me!  _

Jen swallows, “Was anyone else hurt?”

“There were a few people in the crowd, some are critical. They were taken to Sibley Memorial,” Nick supplies. 

Jen doesn’t look away from the spot she’s claimed on the wall, “Tell C.J. to set up a national address.”

“Madam President, I’m not sure—”

“Now.” Jen’s tone leaves no room for arguments, and Nick nods his head once to tell her he understands. He quietly delegates Christopher to make the phone call and mutters something about the bathroom. 

Jen gives it a few minutes, and then she tells Charlie and Henry that she’ll be right back and asks a Secret Service agent on detail to sweep the men’s bathroom for anyone besides her staff. He comes back out a minute later and indicates she’s good to go in. Nick jumps in surprise when she walks in, and she halts any comments he might make with a hard look. She doesn’t say anything as she grabs a few paper towels and runs them under the water, just grabs Nick’s hands and starts wiping away the blood. He watches her, flicking back and forth between her hands and her face; Jen doesn’t look at him, just focuses on her task.

“You were right in front of her,” Jen says quietly.

“I was.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m pretty sure you weren’t holding the gun, Madam President.”

“Maybe so, but I’m the person who put you in front of one.”

Nick sighs and waits a moment before responding. “Madam President, do you have any idea what it feels like to walk through the doors of the West Wing every morning? I’m not even sure I can describe it because it’s just… I was no one before this, but you took a chance on me. And don’t get me wrong, this is one of the most grueling and painstaking jobs I’ve ever had, but there’s no way I could have said no to you. You’re one of the good ones, and I believe in you, so if I have to run the risk of taking a bullet every now and then so I can help you change the world, then so be it.”

Jen pauses cleaning the blood off his hands—Judy’s blood—and tries to take in his words. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t think she has to, and resumes her task a minute later. Nick stays quiet too, but when the blood is all gone and Jen can breathe again, she squeezes his hand. He smiles at her and leaves the bathroom, giving Jen a moment to herself. 

An hour later Jen is watching C.J.’s press briefing on the television in the corner of the waiting room. Charlie and Henry are curled up on chairs and sleeping, and she wishes she was selfless enough to let them go home. Perez, Nick, and Christopher are still waiting with her; they don’t say much and Jen thinks for once, they are all on the same page. A knock sounds on the door and the head of Secret Service and Judy’s doctor both step into the room. Jen wants the doctor to go first—needs to hear Judy is okay so every fiber in her being can release the tension coiling inside her body continuously—but signals for the Secret Service agent to come talk to her first. He makes his way over to her and sits down, and Jen knows she’s not going to like what he tells her.

“We’ve finished questioning him, it was easy to get him to talk. He was working alone, and um, his reasoning was, well—”

“Cory, I’m going to need you to just spit it out.”

“He said his motive was, and these are his words, that he hates women who think they’re better than men and couldn’t stand another four years having one run our country.”

“Cory, I’m a full-grown fucking woman and going into my fifth year as President. If you think I haven’t heard worse than that, you would be sorely mistaken.”

“Of course, Madam President. I’ll keep you updated.”

Jen nods and stands as he exits the room, then turns towards the doctor and waits for the news. It feels like it’s all coming down to this, the next words out of the doctor’s mouth either making or breaking her once and for all. 

“She’s out of surgery now, and expected to make a full recovery. The surgeons were able to repair the damage done to the surrounding muscle and tendons, but she will need to be on bedrest for at least two weeks before starting physical therapy. She’s still asleep but she can have visitors now.”

And it’s euphoric, this feeling Jen has. Never in her life has she heard something as honeyed as  _ expected to make a full recovery _ . She’s not going to lose Judy today, she won’t have to say goodbye to someone that she loves—and that’s when it hits her. She  _ loves _ Judy, and this has to be the most obvious thing in the world that Jen has somehow still managed to deny. All those looks, all those touches… Jen can’t be sure but she thinks she started falling in love with Judy long before Ted died. Maybe it was that State of the Union when Judy wore that cream-colored dress; maybe it was when Judy smiled at her after she was sworn into office the first time and the cold couldn’t touch Jen anymore because Judy’s smile made her feel so warm; maybe it was when she convinced Jen to run for president; maybe it was when she convinced Jen to run for any office at all; maybe it was when Judy rear-ended her and apologized profusely when Jen stepped out of her car in a wedding dress. This whole time, Jen realizes it’s always been  _ Judy _ . Now it makes sense why Ted was always a little standoffish whenever Judy came around and made Jen laugh like nothing else mattered, why he always held Jen a little closer when Judy entered a room. He could see it long before Jen ever did, and part of her feels guilty for that—but another part of her feels like it’s slotting into place. Judy is the root of everything she is, the sustenance Jen never knew she needed.

It is this knowledge—this rapture she has found—that follows her through the hallways of the hospital as she is led to Judy’s room. She’s still sleeping and her skin is so pale, but the machines by her bedside tell Jen she is still breathing, still living. Jen holds her hand, silently thanks whoever is responsible for the woman in front of her not to be lost forever, and lets herself feel. After a few moments, Jen lets the rest of the staff and Charlie and Henry gravitate towards Judy’s bedside, no more able to deny the pull than Jen. 

Jen lets her love for Judy carry her as she forces herself out of the room and out of the hospital, back into the motorcade and the West Wing. C.J. hands her a folder containing the national address and the new updates on those injured; Jen gives it a once over and sits down at her desk in the Oval Office and waits for the greenlight above the camera. She hasn’t changed, hasn’t looked in a mirror, hasn’t done anything to trick her constituents into thinking she is okay—because she’s not. 

The light flicks on and the cameramen give her a slight nod, and Jen takes a centering breath. She informs the American people that she’s okay, that her Chief of Staff is now out of surgery and in stable condition, expected to make a full recovery. Her children are safe, as well as the rest of her staff. She tells them about the ones who were shot but will be okay. Then she informs them about Jack, and the others who have now been pronounced dead. And then Jen pauses before calling this an act of domestic terrorism, outraged not because she was in danger, but because everyone around her was. She informs the public watching her that she was surrounded by the best trained armed guards in the world, and that even their firearms weren’t enough to save the lives that have been needlessly lost today. Jen thinks of Judy and all the good she has done, and she takes a stance. 

.

“The doctor said I only had to be on bedrest for two weeks. This is week three, Madam President.”

“What was that? I’m President? So what I say must go, right? You’re staying in bed.”

“Madam President—”

“Judy, you were fucking  _ shot _ . One more week.”

Jen sets a tray down on Judy’s bedside table, trying to perfectly place the orange juice. It’s become routine for her to bring Judy’s breakfast to her every morning—she never cooks it, Judy might never recover from that—but she likes to bring it to her. Jen finds that her days tend to flow a little better when she gets to start them off with Judy, no crisis able to tarnish the glow Judy provides. 

“I need to get back to work.” Judy sits up and tries to pull the covers back, but Jen is there instantly to gently push her back down and replace the comforter. 

“I’ve been sneaking up briefing books for the last week because it was the only way I could get you to stop asking me so many questions, I think you’ll be fine. The country is still running, we have got it under control.”

“Then you should have let me stay home. I can’t be in the White House and not work.”

Jen goes into the bathroom and grabs Judy’s hairbrush. “There was no way I was going to let you recover on your own. Besides, the doctor said someone should be there to help you out.”

“I would have been fine.”

Jen reemerges from the bathroom and pauses, “Judy, let me take care of you, okay? I just, I need to take care of you.”

“Jen…”

Judy is looking at her sympathetically and Jen doesn’t want that, so she makes her way over to Judy’s side and begins to brush her hair. “I’m fine, it’s fine. I just want to make sure you’re okay. You almost opened your stitches trying to brush your hair last week, who knows what would have happened if I wasn’t there.”

Judy doesn’t say anything else so Jen basks in the quiet domesticity of brushing her hair. There’s a rapid series of knocks on the door right as she finishes; Henry bursts through the door a moment later with a very tired looking Charlie following behind. The boys have been saying goodbye to Judy on their way out the door every morning and something about it fills Jen with joy. She’s been trying her best to keep her newfound feelings for Judy under wraps, but it’s incredibly hard when her sons insist on loving her as much as Jen does. And it’s not that she doesn’t want to shout from the rooftops that Judy Hale is probably the love of her life—never mind the fact that Secret Service doesn’t let her up there—but circumstances haven’t changed just because Judy was shot and Jen realized she loved her. Jen is still President and Judy is still Chief of Staff, and they can’t be together. 

Henry and Charlie break Jen out of her thoughts as they rush out the door, Henry yelling  _ I love you guys!  _ and Charlie mumbling a quick  _ love you _ . It makes Jen warm and when she looks back and finds tears forming in Judy’s eyes. Jen softens. 

“They’ve been telling you they love you since they were babies.”

“I know, but it still makes me really happy.”

Judy blushes and looks away, and Jen needs to make her feel better. She sits down next to Judy and rubs her leg through the comforter. “You’re part of this family, honey.” Jen waits for Judy to smile before taking her leave, gathering her briefcase she threw on a chair when she walked in. 

“You’ll bring me—”

“Yes, I will bring the morning reports at lunch and I will bring the afternoon ones at dinner. Goodbye, Judy.”

“Goodbye, Madam President.”

Jen smirks and Judy returns it in kind, and Jen rushes out the door before she can do something stupid—like kiss that smirk right off Judy’s face. She leaves the Residence and makes her way to the West Wing, listening to the quiet footsteps of Secret Service agents behind her. They’ve doubled security since the shooting and it’s annoying a lot of the time, but Jen knows she would rather keep her people safe. She decides to enter through the patio door next to Abe’s desk and drops a kiss on his head before entering the Oval Office, something they both know she only does when she’s in a really good mood; the Senior Staff is waiting for her and she smiles at them as she passes. 

“My lovely staff, how are we today?”

“We got the projected numbers for Hernandez’s confirmation, and I don’t want to jinx anything, but it looks like we might take the win on this one.” Nick smiles victoriously and Jen tilts her head back and breathes deeply, smiling herself. 

Jen points at him, “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Madam President. You love me.”

“Shut up. What else?”

“The Speaker is calling the Senate to vote on bail reform today and I like our chances,” Perez replies. 

“It helps that we flipped that bitch back to blue. Education next?” Perez nods and Jen gives her a thumbs up. “Great. If that’s all, I have a two-hundred-page report on foreign oil to read, so I would like some alone time.” She smiles sweetly and the staff thanks her before leaving. Jen puts on her glasses and looks for the report in the pile of papers on her desk. 

“Madam President?”

Jen looks up to find C.J. lingering on the outskirts of the room by the door, uncharacteristically nervous. “What’s up?”

“I got a question from Karen this morning. About Wood.”

Jen rolls her eyes, “Oh good god, what now?”

C.J. closes the door before walking over to Jen’s desk, lowering her voice. “I don’t think there’s a story yet, but there definitely could be if we’re not careful. As far as I know, Karen is the only one who has a lead on this.” 

“You’re scaring me now, C.J.”

“She got it from an anonymous source that Wood is an alcoholic.”

Jen almost drops the mug of coffee in her hand, “ _ What _ ?”

“I don’t know very many details. She wouldn’t tell me everything, which is surprising because she can  _ talk _ , but all she said was that a source told her he’s been drinking heavily, usually all day, and that some of his staff complains about a certain smell.”

Jen clenches her jaw and counts to ten, staring out the patio doors and into the lawn beyond. This is the last thing she needs, and she’s starting to think she should’ve actually killed Steve the first time he caused her trouble. She looks back at C.J., mouth set in a hard line. “I’ll deal with him, you deal with Karen. Keep her  _ off _ this, C.J.”

C.J. nods and makes her exit, leaving the door open; Jen takes another few seconds to try and calm herself down. “Abe! Can you tell the Vice President to come by the Oval Office tonight?”

Jen manages to squeeze in an actual break for lunch and has the kitchen whip up something for her and Judy. She juggles the plates all the way to the Residence and asks the Secret Service agent outside Judy’s door to help her—Judy’s security detail was upped too, and Jen has never been more grateful to have so much power. Judy lights up when Jen walks in, lunch together not something that has happened often in the two weeks Judy has been recuperating in the Residence. 

They eat in relative silence, letting some drama play on the television in the background; Jen waits until Judy is done with her chicken fingers to drop the bomb.

“Steve is an alcoholic.” 

Judy chokes a little and Jen pats her back to help, only sitting back down when she knows Judy is okay. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“C.J. heard it from Karen, the  _ Times _ correspondent? An anonymous source told her that he’s developed a drinking problem, and apparently his whole staff knows.”

“Oh,  _ fuck _ .”

“C.J. is going to keep it under wraps for now, hopefully until after Hernandez is confirmed.”

“What are we going to do about Steve?”

Jen stands and starts to put her blazer back on, noticing the time and remembering she has a call with the British Prime Minister in five minutes. “You are not going to do anything, I will handle this.”

Judy frowns and grabs Jen’s hand as she walks past, “Please, don’t do anything rash.”

“Oh, I’m going to punch him in the fucking—”

“Do not punch him.” Jen rolls her eyes. “I’m  _ serious _ . Come up with a better plan.”

Jen rolls her eyes again but mumbles a  _ fine _ and a  _ see you later _ before walking out the door. 

Jen sits down at her desk, trying to roll an ache out of her shoulders. It’s like she can feel the knots forming throughout the day, and she briefly wonders if she should call a chiropractor. Putting a pin in the thought, she opens the page she bookmarked on the foreign oil report and starts reading, determined to finish the last fifty pages before Henry’s bedtime. 

She gets through about five pages when there’s a knock on her door, and she startles slightly as she finds Steve standing in the doorway with a grin on his face. She narrows her eyes and immediately wants to punch it off his face, but annoyingly, Judy’s voice rings in the back of her mind. 

She slides her reading glasses off and stands, gestures for Steve to take a seat on the couch. She watches him out of the corner of her eye as she pours them each a glass of whiskey from the bar cart in the corner. She stays silent as she hands a cup to him and sits down, shooting him a smile that he returns as they each take a sip. 

“What number is that?”

“Excuse me?”

Jen keeps smiling, “That’s not your first drink today, so what number is it?”

Steve leans forward and sets the glass down on the table, looking like he wants to run. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Don’t bullshit me, Steve. I could smell it on you the second you walked in here. How long has this been going on?” Jen slams her glass down on the table, some of the liquid spilling over the edge and falling onto her fingers. She has a hangnail, it kind of burns. 

Steve sighs and casts his gaze downwards, “A while.”

“A reporter has it, Steve. Luck for you, she likes me enough to hold off on writing it.” Jen can see the panic flit through Steve’s eyes and she lets him, not really in a position to care about reassuring him. Jen clenches her right fist and feels where some of the whiskey made her fingers sticky. 

“Thank you, Madam President.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. I don’t know how long she’ll keep quiet, but I can keep this locked away long enough for you to get your ass to a meeting once a day for the foreseeable future.”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary.” Steve puts his hands on his knees and looks at Jen indignantly, daring her. 

“Oh, I think it is.” Jen drops her voice until she knows it’s ice cold, a sharp contrast to the heat of the whiskey running through her. “You are going to get sober so hopefully, if and when this gets out, you will be able to freely say that you are perfectly fine and sober enough to help me run the country.”

Steve looks her in the eye and she sees the envy and hatred reflecting back at her. “Yes, Madam President.” 

Jen stands so he is forced to, not quite dismissing him yet; she packs her briefcase and lets him simmer. She turns off the lamp on her desk and heads towards the patio door before turning around one last time. “If I find out that you aren’t going to meetings, I can guarantee you will be out of your office before the press can even run the fucking story. Goodnight, Mr. Vice President.”

.

The weeks leading up to the Congressional vote on Hernandez has Jen feeling a little bit out of her mind. Between the normal chaos of her job and the looming terror of her appointee being denied, she’s running off four cups of coffee’s pure adrenaline every day. Halfway through Judy’s third week on bedrest, Jen finally relented and let her start working again. She told Judy, under no uncertain terms, that she is only allowed to work seven hours a day and has to take it very easy on the physical front. No walking and talking and running around the West Wing like she usually does. Of course the very next day she caught Judy rushing to the cafeteria when it was announced they had vegan chicken nuggets on the menu that day, and Jen knew she couldn’t enforce her rules when she started laughing. 

The entirety of the West Wing seemed to take one deep breath the moment Judy sat back down behind her desk, her whole office adorned with flowers and get-well cards. The place runs better with Judy in it, and because she’s such a ball of fucking sunshine, everyone was worried about her. Almost hourly Jen would have to answer some variation of a question asking how Judy is doing; she tried to remind Abe it was his job to filter who comes in the Oval Office but he just shrugged and claimed he couldn’t fight the powers of democracy. Jen had rolled her eyes and promised she was going to take away some of his Executive Secretary privileges, but they both knew she wouldn’t; half of the reason he lets so many people go into Jen’s office to ask about Jen is because he knows they both like the constant reminder that Judy is okay, Judy is alive. 

Her Senior Staff isn’t doing much better, all of them lacking in sleep and everything else that helps them function like normal human beings—especially Nick, and Jen apologizes to him on numerous occasions that she picked him to lead the confirmation process. He always tells her it’s an honor, so Jen makes sure to bring him an extra cup of coffee in the afternoons. Perez found out about that though—Jen told her she could have been a detective in another life and then Perez informed her it wasn’t too late to switch careers—so now Jen spends her afternoons as President of the United States getting six cups of coffee and delivering them to different locations of the West Wing. 

She keeps a close eye on Judy, part of her believing the doctor when they said Judy was perfectly functioning after a few weeks of physical therapy and painkillers, but another part of Jen can’t stop the anxiety that runs through her every time Judy is out of her line of sight. Often, Jen wonders if this is what it’s like to love somebody: caring about them more than yourself, worrying every second of every day that you might lose them. Jen never knew love could hurt like this, an ache inside you that is only alleviated when your person is in your arms, in your soul.

There’s at least fifty cartons of takeout littered across the West Wing; every desk in every bullpen is covered in papers and drinks and napkins. Jen’s own has a glass of whiskey and a fortune cookie, allowing herself to live a little as the evening begins to make way. She asked Christopher earlier to keep a close eye on Nick and his alcohol intake, knowing that no matter the results of tonight, he will probably drink himself into a stupor. Abe and the rest of the Senior Staff are off somewhere, probably shitting their pants and trying to force themselves to eat through the nerves. Every staffer and intern is still here, everyone eager to find out the results of Congress’s vote on appointing Hernandez to the Supreme Court. Jen already made sure to check in on Charlie and Henry, anticipating a long night. 

The results won’t come in for a while, and Jen is surprised by how calm she feels—it’s why she set up camp in her office by herself, not wanting to let everyone else’s fretting screw with her. She thought she would be more of a wreck right now, but she’s confident; she’s done everything she can, and she knows without a doubt that Hernandez was the right pick. Of course, Judy was right all along. She usually is. 

Jen’s trying to overcome this whole “control issues” thing her therapist says she has, tired of denying it. She’s the fucking President, that’s the number one sign ever that she has problems relinquishing control. According to her therapist, it’s why she’s felt so wired since the shooting and Judy’s recovery; she had no control whatsoever and it almost ruined her. It wasn’t until Jen almost broke down in the Situation Room about a relatively small foreign dispute that she realized her therapist may have been on to something. She kind of stopped going to therapy within a year after Ted’s death, blaming her schedule and insisting she was alright, truly. Unfortunately, she doesn’t think she’d be able to get through almost losing Judy without some help. The other day she offhandedly remarked that love was making her weak and Abe piped up that love was making her more honest. She hadn’t thought he heard her, but she let his comment sink in as she continued stealing a cookie from his desk right in front of him. 

Christopher steps into the Oval Office and interrupts Jen’s reverie, asking if she’s okay. She says she’s fine, and he tells her that they’re going to finish voting sooner than expected. Jen jumps up from her chair and heads towards the television near Abe’s desk, the same one she witnessed her winning the re-election on. She turns the volume up and watches as the last few Senators they need for a majority are called on to vote. 

Judy then runs into the room, flushed with excitement. Perez and C.J. are right behind her, and Nick walks in a minute later with seven champagne glasses. 

“Where’s the champagne?”

“Right here,” Abe responds, and Jen sees him walk in carrying a bag that has at least three bottles, rounding the desk and sitting down in his chair. Jen raises an eyebrow, and Abe chuckles. The rest of them are shushing each other as the last Senator needed to confirm Hernandez calls out his vote, a firm  _ yea _ resounding as Jen throws her arms up in victory. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”

“Was that the last one we needed?”

“Did we do it?”

“Shit, I think we did that!”

“We just got someone nominated to the Supreme fucking Court! Congratulations, Nick. You did good.”

They fist bump and Jen turns towards Judy, not hesitating to gather her in a hug. Their physical affections had been nonexistent after they broke things off between them, but Jen hasn’t second-guessed a single hug or kiss on the cheek since she saw Judy laying in a hospital bed. She notices Perez and C.J. lingering in their own hug, and it stings a bit; how nice it must be to not worry about being with the person you love. 

Christopher digs out one of the bottles of champagne from Abe’s bag and Perez yells at him to open the patio door and pop it outside. He follows orders and comes back inside, trying to suck up the liquid pouring over the top. Jen laughs along with others at the pathetic display, reveling in one of the few moments of pure happiness they’re all afforded with their jobs. She can feel Judy right behind her, but when she grabs one of Jen’s hands and squeezes tightly, Jen turns around in concern. Judy’s eyes are darting around the room and her breathing looks a little shallow, so Jen murmurs they’ll be right back without checking to see if anyone heard them and steers them into the Oval Office, closing the door behind them. 

She sits Judy down on one of the couches and crouches in front of her, aware that she’s having a panic attack. Jen’s afraid to touch her, worried she might make it worse somehow. She slowly pushes Judy head down until it’s between her knees, and decides to rub soothing circles on her back while breathing deeply and slowly, signaling Judy to try and match her. Jen starts whispering in Judy’s ear, reciting jokes and memories they’ve shared over the years and keeping her hand on Judy’s back, trying to ground her in reality. She’s relieved when Judy’s breathing starts to get back under control, but keeps whispering in her ear. 

Judy sits up a few minutes later and Jen’s heart twinges at the tear tracks on her face, and she can’t help but reach up and gently wipe them away, letting her hand linger on Judy’s face slightly longer than necessary. When Judy tries to apologize, Jen immediately shuts her down. “You have nothing to apologize for, Jude. This isn’t your fault.”

Judy nods but doesn’t look at her, and Jen gives her a few more minutes. “It was the champagne, when Christopher popped it. I don’t know why, it just… put me back there.”

“Has this happened before?” Jen’s voice matches Judy’s quiet, and she’s trying hard to fight her own tears that threaten to fall. Her insides are being torn up, guilt and love dominating the wreckage. 

“A few times,” she says meekly. 

“Judy… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I was embarrassed that it was happening, and I didn’t want anyone to think I couldn’t do my job.”

Jen stands from her crouch and sits down next to Judy, grabbing both of her hands tightly. “Listen to me. This is not weak or embarrassing, it’s a normal response to trauma. Something really shitty happened to you, and it’s going to take a while before it gets better.”

“Thank you.” Judy leans on her, putting her head on Jen’s shoulder. 

“Don’t thank me. Just, please tell me if this happens again? I want to help you, Judes. You don’t have to do this alone.” Jen feels Judy nod, and takes a second to lean her head on Judy’s; there’s a warmth radiating around them, and Jen wants nothing more than to stay here forever. Her and Judy, entwined and enclosed in a dimension of their own making, always together. 

The West Wing is still full of staffers even as the hour grows late, everyone unwilling to go home without thoroughly celebrating one of the biggest victories this administration has had in a while. Jen leaves the crowd playing charades in the Roosevelt Room to step into the Oval for a second, pouring a second glass of whiskey for her to sip on. Most of the time they have reason to celebrate, Jen doesn’t really drink; she likes to stay aware enough to be able to commit this all to memory, solidifying it for her future-self to look back on. 

Just as she’s about to leave, Judy walks in. 

“Hey, how you feeling? C.J.’s about to do that singing party trick thing she does if you want to head to the briefing room with me.”

“Oh shit, really?” Judy looks remorseful, like she wants nothing more than to go to the briefing room with Jen but knows she can’t. It’s a clear sign that Jen is about to have her balls busted by yet another thing she has to deal with, these past few hours letting her forget that she deals with an entire fucking country.

“What happened?”

Judy looks around the room and steps closer to Jen. “I just got a call from the Indiana governor. News just broke that a sixteen-year-old kid is in the hospital in critical condition after being run off the road by some other kids he went to school with. Veered into a tree at full speed.”

“What in the ever-loving-fuck?”

Judy takes a deep breath, “He had just come out at school.”

Jen exhales and slowly turns around, walking towards the coffee table to set her glass down. She pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes scrunching as she tries to process the news. “It’s already public?”

“Yeah. The press is going to ask what our stance is at C.J.’s next briefing.”

“Our stance?” Jen clenches her jaw and picks up her glass to take a sip, mostly just to occupy her hands; punching a hole in the wall in the Oval Office probably isn’t a good idea. “Our stance is that this administration doesn’t fucking tolerate hate crimes. God, this is… Judy, what kind of world do we fucking live in?”

Judy doesn’t answer, simply walks over and picks up Jen’s glass, taking a long swig. They pass the glass back and forth until it’s gone, only for Jen to pour more. She quit smoking years ago, but she’s never wanted to start again more than now. The harsh intake and cooling exhalation is exactly what she needs, a miniscule respite in this life she has made for herself. Who knows, this job might kill her sooner than smoking ever would. 

.

The education bill they send to Congress passes the House but not the Senate, so they revise it and send it again. It passes both the second time, and Jen signs it into action. A small triumph, but it feels good, nonetheless. Shane Bennet—the sixteen-year-old from Indiana—fell into a coma the day after being admitted into the hospital; it’s been weighing heavily on Jen’s mind, her need for control resurging as she waits helplessly to hear updates on his condition. She’s talked to the parents a few times, but there’s only so much consolation she can offer them—even as the President. 

She had Steve tailed for a couple of weeks, wanting to see if he was actually going to meetings. He was going to a top-secret one in the basement of the Capitol Building, every day just like Jen told him to do. Jen was a little surprised to hear it, part of her assuming Steve would ignore her warnings and just fuck around like he usually does. She wishes she could have chosen someone else to be her running mate, but everyone in the campaign knew she needed him at the time, that he was what she needed to win. He almost said no, still sore from losing to her at the Democratic National Convention, but Jen was willing to sooth his ego enough to get him to say yes—but she hasn’t done shit about his ego since. She couldn’t care less. 

She steps into the Oval Office after eating a quick lunch with Perez, going over the latest updates on a hate crimes bill in the Senate that Jen might have to veto, a fucking Republican attaching some bullshit amendment to it they know Jen won’t sign off on. Christopher is waiting inside, and it takes her a few seconds to realize he’s holding a puppy in his arms. 

“What is that?”

“This is Adele, look at her little bitty face.” 

“Why is she in my office? Or you know, the White House at all?”

Christopher cuddles the puppy closer with a pout on his face, “Jennifer, this is my emotional support dog.”

“Did you come in here for a reason, Christopher?” Jen takes a swig out of the reusable water bottle Judy got her for her birthday last year, and Jen fights a smile. Environmental issues is Judy’s number one issue, and the only thing that makes her passive aggressive.

“I wanted to talk to you about school vouchers.”

“The bill that just got introduced to the House? It won’t pass.” Jen waves a hand and assumes that’s it, but Christopher stays put. 

“I think you should release a statement opposing it.”

Jen furrows her brow, “Why would I do that?”

“Because you do,” he says simply. 

“Yes, but I don’t think it’s a smart move to be so public about that opinion, especially when a democrat introduced it to the floor.”

Christopher shifts Adele to one arm and gesticulates with the other one, “We have piles and piles of reports from studies that tells us how damaging school vouchers can be to students and the education system as a whole.”

“I hear you and I agree with you, but I don’t think now is the time to fight this. It won’t pass anyways.” 

“Madam President—”

“Why do you care so much about school vouchers?”

“Because I care about education in this country, and I am very aware of how often it fails its students.”

Jen pauses and notices how insistent Christopher is, how much he genuinely seems to care about this. Often he is the one who provides levity for the rest of the staff, snark constantly on the tip of his tongue. It’s not often Jen sees him so riled up about something, and he’s been with her since the early days of the campaign. “Write something up and have it on my desk by tonight, I’ll take a look at it.”

Christopher claps his hands as best as he can with Adele in his arms and starts sashaying out of the Oval Office, “Thank you, thank you—”

“No promises, Chrissy-boy. I’m just looking at it.” Jen points a finger at him with a stern look on her face they both know is only for show. When he’s out of sight, Jen laughs lightly to herself. Going on five years and her staff still manages to surprise her. 

Later that night, Jen looks over the statement Christopher drafted and smiles for no one to see. He really brought it this time, making sure there was no way Jen could say no to this. It’s succinct yet direct, taking a stance without alienating. It’s the work of a phenomenal speechwriter and, not for the first time, Jen thinks she might be the luckiest President that has ever graced the halls of the White House. 

.

“Remind me why we’re here again?” Jen takes a sip of her champagne as she scans the room full of snobby elites in ballgowns and black ties. Judy is standing close to her, their shoulders brushing and their heads bowed towards as they whisper to each other on the outskirts of the grand foyer they’ve found themselves in.

“Because he was a very gracious donor during the campaign and it’s good to pay our respects.”

“God, you make it sound like we’re at a fucking funeral or something.” Jen glances around the room again and winces at the string quartet in the corner, pretty sure they’ve been playing the same piece of music for the last half hour. “Well, with how depressed this is making me, we might as well be.”

“Madam President,” Judy warns. 

“It’s  _ Monday _ , Judy,” Jen whines, “I want to be in bed reading a memo with a face mask on, not being forced to make face with people I don’t know while wearing heels.”

Judy places a comforting hand on Jen’s forearm, “We’ll leave as soon as it’s polite to.”

Jen leans even closer to Judy as she drops her voice on octave and speaks out the corner of her mouth, “It better be in the next five minutes or I’m going to make this an actual funeral.”

“Ambassador! How nice to see you here.”

Jen abruptly looks up to see the Turkish Ambassador in front of her, and a smile immediately paints her face. She shakes hands with him, amazed at how good she’s gotten at pretending to be interested in what people are saying to her. Judy makes up an excuse about needing to find someone she promised to say hi to, and Jen glares at her retreating back. Judy’s favorite game since Jen’s first year as President is to abandon her in a mind-numbing conversation with some political elite and see how long Jen can last. Judy always times it right and whisks her away right as she’s about to snap, and it always ends with Jen making empty threats and Judy laughing her ass off. They haven’t done it in a long time—not really having the chance to as life caught up with them—but Jen knows her frustration will be worth it to see Judy laugh again. 

Three minutes later, Jen sees Judy approaching her out of the corner of her eye. She’s thankful Judy read the signs right, her tolerance for bullshit slightly lower than last time. Jen notices right away that Judy’s smile is forced when she reaches her and the Turkish Ambassador, but not in the joking way that is only for Jen. Something’s wrong and it’s obviously shaken Judy, whose cheeks are slightly tense. To anyone else it would be a normal smile, but Jen knows better. 

“Madam President, a friend is here to see you.”

Jen excuses herself as Judy leads her by the elbow into an empty hallway, away from prying eyes. “What is it?”

“Shane Bennett just died.”

“ _ Fuck _ .” Jen feels like her whole world just zeroed in on this moment, the air leaving her body. Shane Bennett was supposed to come out of his coma soon, the doctors called Judy every day to update her and they just said he was showing signs of improving. He’s a kid, not even old enough to vote, barely old enough to drive a fucking car. Judy told her that he had gotten his license three days before he was run off the road, and Jen feels sick. She’s had to deal with a lot of devastation in her days as President, but this one is really getting to her. Jen thinks it might have something to do with the fact that she had just realized she loved Judy, and then Shane Bennett was put into a coma for coming out. She really thinks she might be sick. 

Judy finally lets her leave the party, joining her in the motorcade without an invitation—she knows she doesn’t need one; she’s been riding with Jen since she went back to work. They’re silent for the entire ride back to the West Wing, except for when Judy tells her that C.J. just announced it to the press corps, and Nick and Christopher are working on a statement for condolences and pushing their new hate crimes bill. Jen nods and says she’ll do it tomorrow. She doesn’t say anything else after that, not trusting herself to speak without screaming.

She knew the world was full of injustice, knew this job wouldn’t be easy, she just didn’t expect it to break her heart so much. It makes her want to pull Charlie and Henry as close as possible, keeping them next to her for as long as possible. Being President has only served a growing fear of the world, and she wishes she could shield everyone she loves from it. It angers her that she can’t.

Jen pauses on her way to the Oval, noticing Abe’s empty chair; she thinks back and doesn’t recall seeing him since last night. She stops a junior staffer as they drop off a paper on his desk and asks if they’ve seen Abe this morning, starting to worry when they say no, they haven’t. Jen turns to the Secret Service agent posted outside her office door, asking them if they can have someone sent over to Abe’s apartment to check up on him, see if he’s okay. 

Jen crosses the Oval and walks into Judy’s office, finding her at her desk. “Have you seen Abe today?”

Judy looks up from the report she’s reading, “No, why?”

“Just wondering.” She doesn’t want to worry Judy, but knows she’s not doing a very good job at hiding her worry. Thankfully Judy drops it, and Jen heads back into her office. She sits down in her desk chair forcefully, exhausted by the effort of not crying while delivering her statement on Shane Bennett just ten minutes ago in the press briefing room. It’s only ten in the morning and she has a rule about not crying before lunch—unless it’s in the privacy of her own bedroom where no one can hear her. This new hate crimes bill is their next big project, and it’s going to be a difficult one. Her and the Senior Staff are fully aware it’s one of the most extensive ones that has ever been proposed to the floor of Congress, but they’re prepared for a fight. Jen’s tired of waiting for people to realize they’re wrong in their beliefs. 

Taking a moment to herself, she grabs her phone and scrolls mindlessly through it for a few minutes. She’s about to lock it when she notices the pre-installed news app, and she opens it for the first time ever. She’s used to getting her news either directly from the source or from one of her staffers; she can’t even remember the last time she picked up a newspaper. Most of the top stories are about the hate crimes bill and her press statement, and Jen refreshes the page after a minute to see how long it takes for something to beat her top spot. It never takes long, a crisis always occurring far too often for her liking. What she didn’t expect to see, however, was a picture of her Vice President with the word  _ alcoholic _ in bold letters right above it.

She almost trips herself by jumping out of the chair and rushing across the room to open the door, yelling to no one in particular “Where is my fucking Press Secretary?” 

C.J. rounds the corner a second later with a grimace on her face, “Madam President, I had no idea this was going to leak.”

Jen heads back into the Oval and turns towards C.J., trying to control the volume of her voice, “I thought you had Karen under control.”

C.J. looks like she wants to be anywhere but here, and Jen can’t blame her. “I did, it wasn’t her.”

“What do you mean it wasn’t her? Who else had the fucking story? Can someone get me the Communications Director and his deputy. You know what, where’s my Senior Staff? Maybe one of the people who helps me run the country will have some sort of clue as to how this fucking happened.” Jen can’t bring herself to be anything other than livid right now; this week is turning out to be one giant shit storm. It doesn’t take long for the rest of the Senior Staff to rush into the Oval, hot on each other’s heels. 

“Do we know who it was?”

“How long has it been out?”

“It just dropped, it was someone from  _ The Washington Post _ . They aren’t in the press corps,” C.J. supplies. 

“This is bad,” Nick points out. 

Jen rolls her eyes, “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” 

“It’s either going to look like we knew and didn’t do anything about it, or we didn’t know because we were negligent,” Perez states. 

Nick raises his hand, “ _ Did _ we know about it?”

Jen looks between C.J. and Judy, and wow, are they fucked. “The three of us did,” she says, gesturing between them. A collective hush falls over the room, and Jen wants to punch something. She should’ve been more careful, she should have taken more precautions. 

“Oh my god.” Perez slides a hand down her face, mouth open in disbelief. “There’s going to be a hearing. We’re going to be subpoenaed.”

“Thanks Perez, I hadn’t thought of that.” They all wait for Jen’s order, needing direction for something none of them saw coming. She feels out of her depth, doesn’t even know where to fucking begin with this, and she can’t help it when she picks up a pen and throws it across the room. It bounces off the wall and doesn’t do anything for the anger continuing to rise inside her, so Jen turns back towards her staff. “You five go figure out a strategy.”

Judy starts ushering the Senior Staff into her office before looking at Jen, “What are you going to do?”

Jen doesn’t respond right away, just stares at the pen on the floor for a moment before looking back at Judy. “I’m going to make the Vice President resign.”

It doesn’t take long for Steve to show up at her office door, barely looking contrite. Jen doesn’t hesitate when she sees him, instantly standing and planting her hands on her desk. “I hope you have a good life insurance policy because I am going to fucking—”

“Madam President,” he interrupts with his hands up in a placating manner, “we can control this.”

“It’s already out, Steve! We can’t spin something like this, it isn’t like the press found out you have a prefer white over milk chocolate, for fuck’s sake.”

Steve continues looking unaffected, and this is the closest Jen has ever come to actually punching him. The nerve to stand in her office, arrogant as ever, while everything they’ve worked for hangs in the balance. “I’m sure someone on your Communications team can work this out with my people.”

“Oh no, you do not get to insult my staff right now, and I sure as hell am not going to insult them by making them work with your incompetent staff.” Jen rounds her desk and steps close, “You need to resign.”

Steve stands to his full height, “No, I don’t think I do.”

Jen doesn’t move, not intimated. “What do you think is going to happen? You’ll tell the American people ‘hey, I was drunk while helping run the country, but everything is cool!’”

“Something like that, yeah.” He has the audacity to smirk, and Jen’s hand flinches. 

“No, you need to resign since I can’t fire your ass.” She takes a step back to try a different approach, softening her tone slightly. “You have a family, Steve. How is it going to be for them if you fight this? We’re all fucked either way, but dragging out your resignation will only make it worse. We both know this won’t end well.”

His pride finally wavers, and Steve actually looks a little anxious. “I’m not done here. I still have things I want to do.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before disobeying a direct order from your President and not getting sober.”

“It’s barely a problem—”

Jen interrupts him, “I need your letter of resignation on my desk by tonight.” They’re locked in a battle, daring one another to make a wrong move. Jen doesn’t look away and she knows Steve is aware that she won’t relent. His face hardens as the realization fully sinks in, and she can see the way he grinds his teeth together as he sticks his hands in his pockets and tries to hang on to the little dignity he has left. 

“Yes, Madam President.”

He walks out without waiting for her response, and this is the only time Jen doesn’t mind someone leaving without a dismissal—his resignation will be retribution enough for her. 

The West Wing has descended into chaos, that’s the only way Jen can describe it. Every phone has been ringing non-stop, people are running around like they might lose their jobs if they don’t. The Senior Staff has been flying between Judy’s office and their own, trying their best to stay ahead of the disaster they’ve unwittingly found themselves in. It’s been an hour since the news about Steve broke, and Jen feels like she’s not cut out for this. She’s barely left her office, unable to make small talk or answer any questions. She’s tried reading briefings and figuring out her schedule and calling foreign diplomats to work out other issues, but the anxiety is high and she can’t get herself to focus on anything. 

Her phone rings and she immediately answers it, grateful for a distraction. Judy comes into her office while she’s trying to listen to the other person on the line, holding up a finger to signal for Judy to wait. She hangs up a moment later, saying  _ thank you _ and trying to process what she’s heard. Judy walks up to her desk and Jen absentmindedly gazes at her. 

“You’ll do a big press conference tomorrow to answer any questions and get the word out that you are aware of the ramifications, and you are prepared to cooperate with Congress should they decide to call a hearing.”

Jen barely hears her, but it gets through the fog clouding her brain. “Okay.” Her voice is listless to her own ears, and Judy immediately moves closer in concern. 

“Are you okay? Who was on the phone?”

“I sent an agent to go check on Abe since no one has seen him. I was worried he might be sick, or…” She can feel tears in the corners of her eyes and she does her best to hold them back, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat. 

“Jen, what is it?” Judy crouches in front of her chair, slightly turning it until Jen is facing her. 

Jen reaches for Judy’s hand, needing an anchor. “He died in his sleep, Judy. Abe died.”

.

Jen has the funeral expedited, unwilling to let the public shitstorm her and the staff are about to deal with overshadow honoring Abe. Her and Judy oversee it—he didn’t have any family left—and it’s hard. Abe was their cornerstone for so long, following Jen and supporting Judy no matter what, for so many years. Jen doesn’t know how she’ll deal with her days ahead without his snark and wit, without the cookies he keeps stocked for her simply because he knows how much she loves them. The boys didn’t take the news well either, Abe basically a grandfather to both of them, and they ride in the motorcade with her and Judy on the way to the National Cathedral—Jen wants to give him no less than the very best. 

Judy slept in her bed last night—just slept—both of them needing a consolation in the midst of such a big loss. They haven't really talked about it, or Abe, grief making both of them shoulder things on their own. Jen desperately wants to reach out, comfort Judy in some way, but she's not sure how; she's never had to see Judy through something like this, and it makes her feel so guilty for not knowing how to help when Judy was such a big part of her healing after Ted died. She vows to find out what Judy needs so she can give it to her, just not sure when she'll find a moment alone for the two of them to have a conversation like that. Their day is going to be long, and Jen has to prepare as much as she can. 

When they get there, the pews are full of West Wing employees and even some wayward politicians and other federal employees, and it suddenly hits Jen how integral Abe was to their administration, just how many people he touched. It brings fresh tears to her eyes, but she doesn’t let them get the best of her—Abe would have made a fuss if he knew she was crying over him. Jen sits down in the front row on the end, space exclusive to her, and she lets Henry sit on her lap. Charlie sits to the right of her and Judy sits on his other side; she can’t fight the lone tear that makes its way down her cheek when Charlie grabs her and Judy’s hand in his own and holds them in his lap. Grief is a strange thing, she never thought it would give her a family to call her own. 

The service is relatively short, Jen didn’t want the priest to do anything overtly Catholic or somber. Abe was very much a “celebrate life” kind of person, and her and Judy wanted his funeral to reflect that. A few people speak, including Nick, but Jen doesn’t hear what they say. Everything is unclear and her mind keeps racing between everything that has happened in the past couple of days. Never has she experienced so many losses, one right after another, and she feels out of control. Jen doesn’t think she can bounce back from this, can’t see a way out of this anguish and failure she’s wrapped up in. She’s been using the North Star to navigate this entire time, but it just went up in flames; everything Jen has worked for, everything she has done to try and make this country a better place—it all feels like it’s for nothing. What will she have to show for her years in office when all this is over? It must be serendipitous, the way her life has managed to completely fall apart. 

The service ends and Jen zones back into reality, watching as people begin to file out of the cathedral and start preparing for the press conference later. Steve is holed up in his residence somewhere, uninvited and told to stay quiet, per Jen’s orders. He’s still not remorseful enough, and Jen knows the entire West Wing will sink if they don’t play their cards right tonight. She barely got any sleep at all last night, and she doesn’t think anyone else on the Senior Staff fared much better. Dark circles and coffee are their only constants now, everything else too unpredictable to rely on. 

She sends Charlie and Henry to the motorcade ahead of her, and she can’t take her eyes off the giant statue of Jesus behind the altar. She feels Judy behind her and knows she will be wondering why Jen is lingering here longer than she has to. Without turning around, Jen tells Judy to give her a minute, alone; Jen doesn’t move until she hears the last footsteps fade out and the entrance shut. Feeling around in her pockets, she takes out the pack of cigarettes she had picked up for her; she stares at the box for a few seconds before fishing a lighter out. Part of her wonders if it’s illegal to smoke in the National Cathedral, but then Jen remembers she doesn’t really care and lights a cigarette up anyways. 

She exhales a cloud of smoke, letting it fog the space directly in front of her as she starts walking up the center aisle, still staring at Jesus. “You sadistic son of a bitch. You really kill me, you know that? More than these things ever might.” Jen flicks the ash from her cigarette pointedly. “I’m not even sure I believe in you and yet here I am, yelling at your fucking statue.”

Jen takes another drag, listening to the echoes around the cathedral as her yelling subsides for a few seconds. She looks back up at the statue and continues walking towards it, neck beginning to crane. “He was like a father to me, to Judy, and you took him away. You didn’t need to do that, you fucker. I  _ needed _ him, we all did.” She finishes the cigarette and throws it on the ground as her throat constricts. “Our father who art in Heaven…  _ fuck _ you. What was Judy, a warning? That was my  _ person _ . She could’ve…” 

She shakes her head and stops talking for a second, hearing the way her own voice breaks. She climbs the few steps leading to the altar and pauses as the sun breaks through the stained-glass windows, too beautiful for a morning like this. “My Vice President is an alcoholic and the whole world knows, and I have no idea what to fucking do about it. A kid, a  _ kid _ , just died because he wanted to live his life honestly and happily. He had barely lived at all. Is that another warning? Abe too?” 

Jen laughs bitterly as her eyes land on Abe’s casket, tears slowly tracking her cheeks, and this all feels a little bit too sacred. She looks at the statue one more time, “If you’re real, you are no God of mine.”

She turns around and walks back down the aisle, opening the doors and heading towards the waiting motorcade. She knows what she needs to do to keep her sanity in check, to feel like the walls aren’t caving in on her. It’s the ultimate failure of her goals, but at this point she thinks it might be well deserved. 

The Oval Office is draped in black as the Senior Staff finishes going over the rest of the day, reiterating how their every move is being watched and one small misstep could fuck it all up. Jen barely says a word, all of her energy taken up just by trying to stay present. Her brain feels like it’s blanketed in smoke or fog, only certain things breaking through the barrier and processing. She’s heard this all since last night anyways, doesn’t want to think about it anymore. It won’t matter in the end anyways, not after her planned revelations for the conference. 

The staff is gone before she realizes she’s dismissed them, then she can see Judy lingering in the doorway between their offices and watching her. Jen ignores it, trying her best to avoid Judy since getting back from the funeral. If Jen talks to her—if she even looks at her—Judy will immediately know what Jen wants to do and try to stop her. Her silent demeanor is bad enough, and Jen only hopes everyone will chalk it up to the kind of day they’re having. 

Judy finally relents, and Jen has a thought forming in her brain. She calls C.J.’s office before she can rethink her decision, and waits for the other woman to pick up. She bypasses a greeting, going straight for business, “You’re sure Karen didn’t leak the story?”

_ “Yes, ma’am.” _

C.J. sounds skeptical and Jen silently swears at how good her staff is at their jobs. She tries to keep her voice level as she responds, “Tell her to come to the Oval Office for an exclusive fifteen minutes alone with the President, on the record.”

_ “Madam President, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.” _

“Think of it as reparations for blocking her lead. Karen has always been good to us. I’ll just give her some of the main points of the press conference, nothing major,” Jen lies through her teeth. She only feels a slight guilt, not enough to stop her. She positions her chair after hanging up so she can see who enters the office area of the Executive Secretary right outside the Oval, misery reblooming as she remembers no one is there to tell her when Karen arrives. 

A clock ticks, roaring in her ears as she waits. It’s odd to her how calm she feels, expecting herself to be a total wreck. Maybe it’s a sign that what she’s doing is the right move, and she settles further into herself as fault plants itself in her bone marrow, infusing itself into her genes so no doubt is left.

Karen gets there a moment later, a cautious smile and hesitant steps reminding Jen of the same behavior Karen exhibited on the first campaign trail. She was the  _ Times _ correspondent then, one of the campaign staff’s favorites, and Jen has kept her close over the years; she does her job well, and Jen knows she chose the right person for this. On the outside Karen might be bubbly and loud, but when it comes to reporting she’s just as unsympathetic as the next journalist. 

They discuss the press conference first, Jen giving away main objectives but no big reveals as to what their plan of action is to deal with Steve’s scandal. It’s enough to keep Karen ahead of the other reporters, and Jen is glad she can do something to help since she fucked Karen over, who was only doing her job. Impeding on Constitutional rights has never been Jen’s forte, and she hates that she’s become like every other politician. 

“There’s evidence Vice President Wood was drinking while on the job, which is to help you run the country. Is there any culpability on your part?”

This is the question Jen has been waiting for—just as pointblank and harsh as she expected—and she states the answer she’s kept on the tip of her tongue since the funeral. “Let’s just say this past week is enough to make any person want to abandon their post.”

Karen falters, obviously not expecting the answer Jen gave her. She chuckles awkwardly, and Jen knows she’s afraid of what she just received. “I’m sorry, Madam President. I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

Jen sits up straighter and considers her next words carefully, looking Karen right in the eye to make sure there are no more misunderstandings. “Recent events are more than any one person can persevere through, even the President.”

Karen’s eyes go big as she takes in what was just disclosed, and she waits for Jen to say something else. Jen stays quiet before announcing their fifteen minutes is up, and Karen hurriedly gathers her things and races out the door. Jen watches her go, trusting she made the right decision. 

__

Jen stares out the patio doors, hands in her pockets as she watches the clouds darken. There’s a storm coming, and this must be the calm right before. Everyone has been avoiding her office today and she’s thankful for it. She knows Karen hasn’t leaked the story yet, will probably do it while Jen is on the way to the conference; anything sooner would be giving other reporters too much of a lead. 

Her mind forgets about Steve and Shane Bennet and lets her grieve for a moment, struck with a memory of her and Abe right after the first Inauguration. They were sitting on the couches that are right behind Jen, but they were four and a half years newer and had just been delivered. Everyone else was trying to find their offices and settle in, so Jen was alone and panicking slightly. Abe wandered in and looked around the room in wonder, taking in all the little details. It was before he needed a cane and he looked so carefree, and Jen barely greeted him before putting her head back in her hands. He sat down next to her and waited for her talk, knowing her well enough to understand she doesn’t like being pushed. 

__

_ I’m not sure I can do this, Abe. _

__

_ Sure you can. _

__

_ I’m serious.  _

__

_ Think of it like any other job. _

__

_ That’s the thing that freaks me out. This isn’t just any other job, this is an entire country waiting for me to do something good or fuck up. There’s no in-between here.  _

__

_ You’re going to do great, Jen.  _

__

_ How do you know that? _

__

_ I’ve been watching the people who come in and out of this office since before you were a twinkle in your parents’ eyes. I’ve seen people succeed and fail at this, often within the same day. But you have something special, kiddo, and I know you’re going to be better than you think.  _

__

_ Abe… _

__

_ Sometimes I’m afraid the weight of how much you care will kill you, but you manage to surprise me every day by waking up and doing something that matters. You can do this, I have no doubt about it.  _

__

_ What if I can’t? _

__

_ Jen, you are the President. You wouldn’t be here if millions of people didn’t think you could do it. Besides, you’ll have Judy right by your side. You made your best friend your Chief of Staff, that’s the first sign of a good president right there.  _

__

Rain begins to fall and Jen floats out of the memory, smiling to herself as she lets Abe’s words wash over her all over again. She hadn’t remembered that moment until now, and for the first time since deciding she was going to resign, doubt springs up. Abe had been so confident in her, so proud; would quitting now only fail him? She should be honoring him, and everything he was to the people around him. Jen wants to deny it, but deep down she knows he would be disappointed if she gave up now. 

Then the week crashes down on her again, a tidal wave of disaster threatening to burgeon her sureness in her resignation. It wars with the echo of Abe in her ears, and she tries to foresee a winner but Judy walks in just then and tells her it’s time to leave. Jen walks past her and into the halls of the West Wing, navigating the maze. The Senior Staff joins her, creating an entourage on the way to the motorcade. Before getting in the car, Jen asks Judy if she can ride alone this time, not giving an explanation. Judy looks a little hurt but more worried, and Jen silently promises to explain later. 

The drive is short but it feels like years as Jen continues to battle with herself, trying to figure out the right thing to do. Either way it will be hard and there will be things she has to do that she doesn’t want to, and the pros and cons list she’s mentally making is looking equal. There is no deciding factor, no clear signal for her to follow; this is unprecedented territory and the only thing she has to consult is the memory of Abe. She already feels like she’s losing the sound of his voice though, a small whisper in the torrent of her thoughts. 

The motorcade pulls up to the press conference too soon for her liking, and she stops the questions from the Senior Staff about Karen’s story that dropped on the way there with one look, a glint of threats in her eyes. They all look like they’re panicking—like they want to yell at Jen and ask her why the fuck she would do that—but she starts walking before any of them work up the nerve. She can hear the chatter of dozens of reporters in the giant room they’ve set up for the conference, merging with the sound of her heartbeat in her ears; it matches the thunder booming outside, cracks of lightning flashing through the sky. Someone hands her a towel to dry off her face and hands from the rain that fell on her as she walked into the building, and Jen barely uses it before giving it back. She’s too focused, too caught up in the choice she is about to make. 

The entire room stands as she enters it, and is momentarily blinded by the flashing of cameras. There’s even more journalists than she thought, and anxiety begins to run rampant. C.J. tries to tell her to not answer any questions about her possible resignation, say it was a misunderstanding and move on if she absolutely has to. Jen only nods and heads to the podium, looking out over the crowd as Abe’s voice sounds in her ears once again.

_ You can do this. _

__

She points at one of the reporters from the White House press corps in the third row and they stand up. “Madam President, is it true you’re going to resign?”

Jen isn’t surprised, she knew this would happen when she leaked it to Karen. This press conference is now about her and that’s partially what she wanted—to detract from Steve’s fuck up and pay her dues at the same time. Camera flashes fill the room and everyone in the room waits on her answer, like they’re all holding their breaths. She scans the crowd, finding Judy standing towards the back, more of a silhouette than an image. Jen looks back at the reporter and stands a little straighter, firmly grabbing the podium as an air of authority overtakes her. 

_ You can do this. _

__

“That’s a great question, Margaret.”

_ You can do this. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god fuck i am so sorry once again 
> 
> @jensblazerhoard on twitter, go yell at me there :/


	4. term two, year two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't have anyone read this before i posted it so if there's typos, don't fucking tell me because i sure as hell didn't proof read this either. maybe i'll go back and fix them some day but probably not.
> 
> anyways, here it is! final chapter! thank you so much for all the lovely comments. all of the support and enthusiasm has warmed my cold and bitter heart, and kept me going even when i didn't want to. i love you all and will you marry me. thank you
> 
> also i don't know anything about IP addresses so forgive me for my stupidity. this will make more sense in a couple of minutes

“I don’t want to go to this dinner,” Jen singsongs as she makes her way into the Oval Office, the Senior Staff standing around waiting for her morning arrival. Jen is in an unusually good mood, but she chalks it up to the two cups of coffee she’s already had and the way Judy’s face brightens a little when she walks in the Oval. 

“Madam President—”

“Yes C.J., I know. Schmooze the press and they’ll be nicer to me, blah blah. Why can’t I just send Yolanda in my place?” Jen sits down at her desk and promptly puts on her glasses, glancing over the nightly intelligence reports sitting on top of her desk.

“Because she’s also attending.”

“The president _and_ the vice president both have to go? Six years in office and I never knew that.”

Perez steps forward, rapidly tapping a pen on the side of her thigh. “We got bad news on the education bill.”

“I thought it was a sure thing?” Jen stands and grabs a report she left on the coffee table last night before heading back to her desk, glancing at Perez as she passes by her.

“A freshman Congressman from Illinois got ballsy and attached a school voucher amendment,” Nick responds.

“I always knew I hated the Midwest for a reason.” Jen sighs and turns her attention to Christopher, “It’s your time to shine. Get that amendment off, baby.”

Christopher stands a little taller and shoots Jen a quick smile, “Yes, ma’am.”

Jen pours herself a glass of water and has to fight the instinct to yell for Abe, his absence something she still struggles with. He was with her for so long that his death still manages to cut her like a knife every time she passes his desk—now empty. She knows it’s still hard on Judy too, who studiously avoids going through the Executive Secretary office outside the Oval as often as she can. It breaks Jen’s heart, the idea that Judy had to lose such an integral part of the small group she calls family, and every day Jen tries to think of some way to make up for the loss—but she has yet to find the solution.

“Hey.”

Jen looks up sharply, finding Judy standing in the doorway between their offices. She’s wearing a long floral dress, and Jen thinks it might be the brightest thing she’s worn in almost a year. “Hi, I’m just finishing up some light reading.” Judy smiles warmly as Jen takes off her glasses and stands, and it takes Jen’s breath away for a second before she can muster up the strength to ask, “Did you need something?”

Judy shrugs her shoulders and walks a little more into the Oval, “Just wanted to see if you had time for lunch?”

“With you?” Judy hasn’t asked to hang out with Jen in a while, the day-to-day happenings inside and out of the West Wing not leaving them much free time. They’ve been playing catch up ever since Steve-gate—as the Senior Staff has taken to calling it—and Jen is surprised by the sudden, overwhelming feeling of missing Judy.

“Well, um. Yeah, with me.”

Judy smiles so bright, so full of hope, and something inside Jen melts. “Oh. Of course, I’ll have someone order some sandwiches or something. Veggie on sourdough?”

Judy nods and the shock on her face that Jen remembers her lunch order makes the guilt rise, Jen all too aware of how she has been neglecting seemingly every single one of her relationships. Judy, the boys, the Senior Staff—they all feel distanced and Jen knows it’s because she’s been too caught up inside her own head, letting all the problems—the world’s and her own—weigh her down. There’s also a part of Jen that knows she doesn’t go out of her way to get Judy alone because she’s afraid of what she might do if they are; the past year hasn’t helped diminish her love, only let it simmer on the backburner until it threatened to boil all over again.

Their lunches are delivered not long after and they take up residence on the seats near the couch, content in the relative silence that follows. Both of them are constantly talking and explaining and arguing throughout the day, so they’ve learned to relish the quiet when it occurs, along with each other’s company. The only interruptions are Judy’s sinful moan-like sound when she takes the first bite of her sandwich that leaves Jen squirming in her seat and thinking about the budget deficit, and Jen comments on the falling snow outside. It’s April but winter is still raging, creating a frigid backdrop for the denouement of one of the hardest periods of Jen’s life.

The snow looks soft but falls quickly, and part of Jen hopes the dinner tonight will be cancelled—but she also knows that would never happen. The Secret Service is basically trained to survive anything from the Sahara Desert to the Antarctic tundra, and it would cost too much money to convince the invited Hollywood elites to come back to D.C. again. Jen sighs to herself, s;resdy practicing fake niceties for tonight inside her head.

Muffled laughter cuts through the room just then, and she looks at Judy who looks equally perplexed. It sounds like it’s coming from far away, possibly outside, and Jen never realized just how many benefits bulletproof glass had until now. The sound occurs again, and Jen thinks it sounds distinctly like C.J.’s laugh—almost confirming the theory that it could be heard from the East Wing if everyone was quiet enough.

Judy gets up and looks out the glass doors towards the Rose Garden, giggling. Jen joins her, floored by what she finds. “Is that…?”

Her Senior Staff sans Judy, making snowballs and throwing them at each other on the lawn of the White House. They’re all laughing and it’s the happiest Jen has seen them in a long time, and she doesn’t even find it within herself to worry about the work they’re not focusing on right now. They’ve all been non-stop lately, and if this is how her advisors choose to let off steam, who is she to judge?

“Secret Service is probably having an aneurysm right now,” Jen mutters. Her head is close to Judy’s, both of them straining to look down the outside portico towards the Rose Garden so they don’t miss any of their staff’s—quite frankly—amusing antics. It makes Jen less annoyed by the snow, the concept suddenly soft instead, as if she just needed to see someone else enjoying it in order to give herself permission to enjoy it too.

“I bet you ten bucks that you can’t hit Nick,” Judy states, Jen cutting her a sharp look at the thinly veiled insult on her aim.

“Ten bucks you can’t get a head shot on C.J.,” she retorts.

Judy’s jaw drops and no sound comes out, and Jen takes the opportunity to grab her coat. She’s grabbing Judy’s in her office when she hears her yell, “Did you just… was that a crack about my _height_?”

“Come on, Judes…” Jen walks back into the Oval Office and holds out the coat for Judy to slip her arms into, ignoring the domestic inclinations of the act. She buttons her own coat and ties the attached belt around her waist, “She’s an Amazon next to you!”

Jen pushes open the patio doors and sees the stationed Secret Service agents stand a little straighter, whispering into their cufflinks as she hurriedly walks towards the Senior Staff still laughing and messing around in the snow. Judy is right behind her, obviously still fired up from Jen’s comment about her stature.

“Maybe I can’t get a headshot on C.J. but I sure as hell can get one on _you_.”

“Not on my Secret Service’s watch.” Jen looks behind her with an eyebrow raised, but Judy only returns the gesture.

“Want to find out?”

Jen and Judy finally reach the rest of the Senior Staff as C.J. pauses in her move to try and dump snow down Christopher’s back, “Wait, did I just hear my name and ‘headshot’ in the same sentence?”

“Shut up, C.J., we’re in the middle of an ambush!” Perez stands off to the side, armed with two snowballs. She looks at Nick before glancing back at her girlfriend, “This is _war_.”

Laughter erupts as they are all suddenly privy to a side of Perez they’ve never seen before—the playful, Ana side—and Jen immediately bends down to gather snow in her hands. It bites at her skin and she wishes she would have remembered gloves, but unwilling to miss anything by going back and getting them.

C.J. drops the snow she was threatening Christopher with and copies Jen’s movements as she grabs handfuls of snow. “Why I agreed to marry you, I have no idea,” she casually responds, continuing to shape the snow in her hands into a ball. It almost passes Jen right by, but the comment registers in her brain at the same time it registers in everyone else’s.

Judy pauses in her building of a miniature snowman, “Wait, what?”

Jen takes a step closer with a big smile forming on her face, “The fuck did you just say?”

“You two are getting married?” Nick drops the snow he was holding and runs his hands over his head, trying to comprehend the situation unfolding before him.

“Oh. My. God,” Christopher whispers, looking between Perez and C.J. excitedly. The two women in question look at each other before looking back at the rest of them, and Jen can track the nerves, fear, and excitement on their faces as the news settles in.

“We were going to wait a little longer to tell you guys but yes, we’re getting married,” Perez states, trying and failing to keep a smile off her face.

Cheers and congratulations ensue as C.J. and Perez are tackled, Jen lingering a little bit when Perez whispers _you next?_ in her ear. It catches Jen off guard, and she pulls back to find Perez smirking and eyeing Judy with a knowing look. Jen wants to immediately deny what Perez is insinuating, but everyone is still huddled together and Judy is right next to her; she glares at Perez, implying they’re going to be talking about her comment later. It’s not until a minute later they finally break up again and continue the impending snowball battle—Nick stealthily launches one at Christopher, making him yell _this scarf is cashmere!_ while Nick doubles over in laughter. Jen takes her opportunity and launches one at his chest while he’s unaware, and she triumphantly turns to Judy.

“You owe me ten bucks!”

“Doesn’t count, I didn’t see it.”

Jen frowns and is about to argue the technicalities of a bet when she feels a sudden and soft strike against her head, something wet and cold registering a second later. She turns around and finds a sheepish Perez avoiding eye contact, moving to stand behind C.J. “Was that you? You motherfu—"

Jen is cut off when another snowball hits her cheek, and she doesn’t have to open her eyes to figure out it was Judy—she can tell by the laughter. Jen immediately bends down and starts working double-time, determined to get back at her staff and enjoy this reprieve for what it is: a small rip in the fabric of time, the universe allowing them all a small moment to breathe.

The cold has finally seemed to seep out of Jen’s bones as she slips on the evening gown she’s wearing for the Correspondent’s Dinner, but the smile has remained. The impromptu, childlike glee her and the staff experienced today was the best twenty minutes they’ve had in a long time, and Jen can’t help but feel a little guilty about the fact that she’s the reason they only ever get twenty minutes of relief once a week in the chaos that has become their lives. The smile fades as the guilt builds, but a knock on the door interrupts its progress. The door swings open before Jen can respond and that means it's Judy, so Jen relaxes a little bit and grabs a pair of earrings off her dresser.

“God, Jen. You look… _beautiful_.”

Jen turns around to find Judy staring at her, mouth hanging open, and a blush instantly materializes all over her body. “Stop.”

“I’m serious.”

Jen turns back towards the mirror as she puts the earrings in, “I gained ten pounds over the winter.”

Judy walks forward until she’s standing behind Jen, making eye contact with her reflection in the mirror. “And? Gaining ten pounds isn’t a bad thing.” Judy smiles but Jen rolls her eyes, too deep in her self-pity to listen. “I wish you would love yourself more.”

Jen looks back at Judy through the mirror and pauses in her ministrations, left earring waiting to be secured by its back. This moment feels suspended, like there’s a ball somewhere waiting to be dropped, but Jen holds on tight and forces a chuckle through her lips. “What about you? I didn’t think you could top your second State of the Union look, but once again you have managed to surprise me.”

She rounds out the compliment with an arched brow and Judy glares at her, but a knock on the door prevents her from responding. An agent sticks his head in, “Ma’am, the motorcade is ready.”

Jen nods and finishes putting in her earring, turning around and taking a deep breath. She asks Judy if she’s ready silently, and Judy nods. They walk to Charlie’s room together to say bye, and he’s sitting at his desk with a textbook open and scrolling through his phone.

“I think you’re reading the wrong thing, mister,” Jen chides.

He looks up at them and frowns. “How come the one time you guys do something fun, I’m not there?”

“The snowball fight?”

“Yeah, it’s all over Twitter.”

“I don’t even know what that is, now wish your mother good luck.”

“Good luck, Judy.”

“I meant me, bro. I’m the one giving a speech tonight, remember?”

Charlie smiles genuinely and stands up to hug her. “You’ll do great, Mom. Good luck.”

He hugs Judy goodbye and throws them both an _I love you_ as they walk out the door, and Jen can see the way Judy is trying really hard not to cry at Charlie’s joke about her being his mom. She takes Judy’s hand and squeezes, letting her know it’s okay; Judy smiles gratefully, and collects herself before they say goodnight to Henry.

Jen never thought about it before now but Judy might actually be their second mother, with everything she has done for them over the years, let alone the ones after Ted died. She still spends every Sunday with them, carving out time she doesn’t have to make sure they know what they mean to her. Jen is a little jealous and very guilt-ridden, aware that her schedule is even busier than Judy’s, but she tries not to let it eat her alive. She’s trying, really trying, and she can only give so much of herself away before there’s nothing left. Jen tries to make sure the boys know that they come before her job—that they will always be her first priority—but there are moments when they are not. Sacrifices had to be made when she swore the oath of office in front of the entire country, and she has tried so hard ever since then to make sure her children weren’t one of them. As she watches Henry hug Judy tightly and not want to let go, Jen worries she might have failed them all anyways.

Jen has already given her speech so she’s treating herself to one glass of champagne, and Judy has already warned her _only_ one. They’re still in a giant room full of journalists and reporters and it’s not exactly the best place for the President of the United States to be drinking. Judy is sitting next to her, other political dignitaries surrounding them at their table as they listen to some award announcement and clap on cue. A laugh resounds from a table near them and both her and Judy look to find C.J. laughing at something Nick said, going by the grin on his face.

Judy pouts, “Why can’t we ever sit at the fun table?”

“Did you not read your job description? I’m sure there was something in there about endlessly making you suffer.”

“Really? I must have skimmed that section.”

“Fine print, easy to miss.”

Judy smiles brightly, and Jen does a double take, caught off guard by how beautiful she looks in this light. She wasn’t lying earlier—she truly didn’t think Judy could top that cream number she wore a couple of years ago, but the emerald green gown she’s wearing right now rivals constellations. It almost makes Jen want to do something reckless and blame it on the champagne even though she’s not even done with her glass, but she stops herself with more than the knowledge of where they are and who is here. Jen knows even if they were alone in a car or in her room she would still hesitate, because she loves Judy and she doesn’t know if Judy loves her back, and she can’t risk losing her. She loves Judy so much it scares her, so much that it hurts.

Jen has always wondered if there was something between two people in love besides love, and she thinks now it might be fear.

A couple of hours later and she’s back in front of the mirror in her bedroom, taking out her earrings. She sent the Senior Staff home already, so when Judy walks into the room she’s surprised. Knocking has become more of a performance than a necessary thing now, and Jen guesses it’s late enough in the night for Judy not to care about appearances between her and the President.

She knows Judy could tell she was sad during dinner, and she braces herself for the inevitable question that’s coming. She moves across the room and throws her shoes somewhere in the vicinity of her closet, promising herself she’ll deal with it tomorrow. She pours two glasses of wine from a bottle she keeps handy for nights like this, and hands one over to Judy. They both take a few sips without speaking, neither willing to break the silence that has descended—one that seems to appear more often than not between them these days.

“You’re not a bad mother, you know.”

Jen startles, lost in thought and not expecting Judy to say that so blatantly, if at all. “Funny.”

“Jen, you’re not. You’re an amazing mother to those boys, and they know how hard this job is for you.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“No, but they know you’re doing your best.”

Jen sits down and tries to fight the tears threatening to reveal her vulnerability and just how afraid she is by the thought of losing everyone she loves. One falls anyways and she looks up at Judy, slightly defeated. “Do they?”

Judy doesn’t answer, just sits down next to Jen and takes both of their glasses and sets them on the table. She pulls Jen close, holding her tightly to tell her something Jen isn’t sure she understands. She’s a pragmatist, a realist, and has never been good at reading code; it’s why she loves law and politics so much, there is little room for ambiguity when they do their jobs well. But Judy is the opposite of all that, creating spaces in between words that mean so much more than could ever be written, and Jen thinks she could spend the rest of her life trying to figure what it all says.

.

It’s three in the afternoon and it’s been a relatively quiet day, and Jen is full of anxiety. Slow days are always the ones to worry about, and Jen has gotten very used to the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s inevitable, and a quit day always means something big is coming, a foreboding event lingering somewhere in the darkness of time—it’s melodramatic but at this point Jen has accepted that her life has turned into a feature length film full of plot twists.

She’s sitting at her desk with her feet propped up because she can and no one is around to remind her it’s a relic, twirling her glasses around her fingers and holding a memo in the other hand, pretending she’s reading but staring blankly instead. No one has come in or out of her office in at least twenty-two minutes, which must be some kind of record. The door to Judy’s office has stayed firmly shut all day and she thinks Judy is fielding any non-issues away from her. Jen appreciates it, has needed a little time to herself, so she relishes what she has been afforded. If she’s learned anything from being the one person in the world whose attention is always needed for something, it’s that you stop questioning why it’s quiet and just try to anticipate the moment when it’s not.

As if on cue, there’s a knock before Cory Walker—the head of the Secret Service—walks in. Jen stands up to greet him and gestures for him to sit on the couch, trying not to let her mind wander to the worst-case scenarios as to why he’s shown up at her office unannounced and looking grave.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Cory?”

“Madam President, we’ve gotten some alarming emails in the past week that we wanted to bring to your attention.”

“Don’t we always get alarming emails?”

“Yes, but these are different. These ones contain actual threats directed at you and the Senior Staff.”

Jen feels her stomach drop, a car door shutting quickly and blood draining down a bathroom sink flash before her eyes and it takes her a second to focus back on Cory. “How concerned should I be?”

Cory takes a deep breath, “Well, we’ve deduced they’re all coming from one person and there’s currently an investigation under way. They’re not using a real IP address so we’re doing our best to trace them. In the meantime, we would like to up the detail for you and the staff until we get this figured out.”

Jen nods and tries not to let panic settle in, trusting those who saved the lives of those she loves to save them again. “I’ll get the Senior Staff in here as soon as I can. Perez is up on the Hill right now and Nick is getting lunch with a Senator, so it might be a little bit.”

“I’m happy to wait, Madam President.”

Jen tries to smile and gestures towards the portico, “I’m just going to… I’ll be right back.”

She stands and goes outside, forgoing her coat and letting the crisp air settle her skin. There’s still a little bit of snow on the ground and Jen smiles at the memory of her and the Senior Staff laughing, throwing snow at each other like they aren’t responsible for running a country. Her hand twitches and she wishes she had a cigarette, so she heads to the Residence for a break from the real world instead.

Once she’s inside her room she goes inside the giant closet full of clothes she doesn’t remember buying—probably because she didn’t—and spies the box she’s looking for buried in the corner. She brings it over to her bed and opens the lid, grabbing the picture frame that sits on top. She gazes at it, full of a melancholy she’s been carrying with her since she was nineteen. It’s Jen’s favorite picture of her and her mother, their faces the happiest she remembers them ever being. She grazes a finger over the face of her mother, a tear falling as she recalls one of the last times her life was simple.

Putting the frame down, she picks up the picture that sits right underneath it. Her and Judy are so young in this one, yet to be affected by politics and policy; they’re on a beach somewhere in Laguna, laughing at something Jen can’t remember. She puts the pictures down side by side, finally letting her tears fall.

The Secret Service detail is upped for all of them, much to the complaining of some of the Senior Staff. Jen doesn’t give them the option to not agree to it though, unwilling to risk anyone’s safety at this point. They only have two years left and she’ll be damned if someone else if lost to her, so close to the finish line. It doesn’t really make a difference to Jen’s daily routine, so used to having at least three shadows follow her at any given time. She can tell it’s hard for the rest of them to get used to it though, and she does her best to make sure they’re okay—especially after what they went through last year.

Judy does surprisingly well with the news, much to Jen’s surprise. She thought getting shot would kind of make her afraid of every other threat to her safety, but she puts her trust in those trained to protect her and Jen marvels at her ability to do it so easily. She can’t say the same for herself however, finding herself constantly worried about where everyone is and what they’re doing and if they’re following all the protocols that have been outlined. This all terrifies her, if Jen is being honest, and she isn’t really sure what to do with that; every time Judy is out of her line of sight, a steel ball settles in the pit of her stomach and she has to constantly reassure herself that Judy is okay.

It all comes to a head when Judy is late for work one day, stumbling into the Senior Staff meeting Jen has stalled until she’s sure Judy is safe. Espresso ends up at fault, the line in the café around the corner long and Judy’s legs short. Jen has to stop herself from yelling in the middle of the Oval Office at how careless Judy was being and how worried she was, settling on calming breaths instead. Judy seems unaware of the panic she caused Jen, and it only serves to make Jen angrier that Judy doesn’t even know the affect she has, that Jen is one anxiety attack away from locking Judy in her bedroom and never letting her out.

That night Jen falls asleep to the thought that she can’t do this anymore—she can’t pretend she doesn’t love Judy because she helplessly does and if this goes on much longer, Jen won’t survive it. She has to tell Judy or she might explode, and it might be the scariest thing she will ever do.

.

Jen closes the budget report she’s reading when Perez walks into the Oval, waiting for Jen’s direction. They sit across from each other on the couch, and Jen suddenly realizes she has no idea how she’s going to say what she needs to say. When she thought of asking Perez for advice, she didn’t really think too far ahead lest she talk herself out of it, and now that she’s here Jen has no idea what she’s doing. Judy has always been the one she’s gone to for advice, but that’s virtually impossible right now considering Judy is the very person Jen needs advice about.

Perez clears her throat when she doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Jen smiles awkwardly. “So, I asked you in here because I need advice.”

“On the tax bill?”

“No.”

“Budget report?”

“No.”

“Some sort of legislation?”

“No.”

“Then why am I here?”

“You’re a very straightforward person, aren’t you Perez?”

“I would think after seven years you would have realized that by now, Madam President.”

Jen sighs. “Well, I called you in here for a more personal reason.”

Perez arches an eyebrow and levels her gaze, “Judy?”

“How did you—? What kind of—? Um, yeah. I was hoping for advice.”

Perez nods and looks away for a second. “I’m going to need backup.” She doesn’t say anything else but stands up and heads towards the door that leads out into a hallway of the West Wing, opening it and shouting blindly, “Can someone get me C.J. in here? Now, please!”

She sits back down across Jen and neither of them say anything until C.J. walks into the Oval with a concerned look. “I was paged?”

Perez smiles and Jen still isn’t used to how carefree Perez looks whenever C.J. is around, so in love. “Yes, the President needs our help.”

“Tax bill?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I need advice on how to tell Judy I love her.”

C.J. takes a seat next to Perez and smirks, eyeing Jen with a knowing look that makes Jen squirm. “Madam President, you and Judy are the worst kept secret in the White House.”

“ _What_?”

“I just mean, it’s pretty obvious to us Senior Staff that you adore her. Probably more than adore.”

“Am I that pathetic?”

“Pathetic? No. Hopelessly in love with your best friend and chief of staff? Yes.”

“Well thank you for putting it so bluntly, Perez. Every time I need advice from now on, I’ll just come to you.”

“Madam President,” C.J. interrupts, “have you considered just telling her how you feel?”

Jen rolls her eyes and throws her hands in the air. “No, C.J. Nowhere in trying to figure out my dilemma did I ever consider just telling Judy how I feel.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“Did you tell just come out and tell Perez how you feel? Just like that?”

“Well, yes.”

“You guys are loads of help, thank you. Remind to bring you to the Situation Room next time there’s a foreign crisis.”

“Madam President, I don’t think now is the time to be—”

Christopher waltzes into the Oval just then, a big smile on his face as he sits down next to Jen on the couch. “I heard we’re giving our lovely leader of the free world love advice?”

Jen balks, “How did you—?”

“I have my ways, Madam President. Alright, now where were we?”

Perez waves a hand absentmindedly, a small diamond on her finger that Jen hadn’t seen before sparkling under the lights. “C.J. just suggested she tells Judy how she feels.”

“Oh no, no, no. I cannot believe you two call yourselves lesbians.” Christopher turns towards Jen and grabs her hands, “Madam President, you need to woo this woman.”

Jen looks between him, C.J., and Perez. “Woo her?”

Christopher nods solemnly, “Yes. I’m talking grand gestures, the whole nine yards.”

“And what do you suggest I do?”

Christopher smiles wickedly and Jen’s afraid of how long he’s been thinking about this, is about to ask him just as one of the doors swings open again and Nick walks in. He stops short, surprised by the gathering, and timidly steps forward. “This isn’t about the budget report, is it?”

Christopher jumps in before anyone else can respond, “We’re giving the President advice on how to get into Judy’s pants.”

Jen swats his arm and he recoils, “Christopher! Do you ever think before you open your mouth?”

C.J. smiles connivingly and Jen notices out of the corner of her eye. “Why Madam President, you are _blushing_.”

Nick sits down in one of the chairs next to the couches and leans forward, “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Jen shrinks under the scrutiny and tries to come up with some excuse that won’t reveal the very short amount of time she actually had been in Judy’s pants—many, _many_ times.

“Well I, um… Fuck.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what we’re asking.”

Jen glares at Nick before closing her eyes as she takes a deep breath. She decides she might as well just tell them—there’s no group of people she trusts more in the world besides Judy. And if she really wants advice, she thinks she needs to be honest. “There may have been a few times that we, um, _did_ that.”

Perez’s jaw actually drops, and Jen is surprised because she never thought Perez could be taken so off guard. “When?”

Jen hums, looking off to the side as she tries to reveal as little of the details as possible. “Election night.”

There’s a few seconds of silence and Jen swears she could hear a pin drop waiting for someone to say something.

“For how long?”

Jen looks over at C.J. and winces, “A couple of months?”

Nick immediately stands, “A couple of _months_? How did we not know?” He directs the last question at the rest of the staff but they all dumbly shrug their shoulders.

“Listen, it wasn’t a big deal. We were just having fun.”

Christopher holds a hand up in Jen’s face to silence her. “No. You do not have sex with somebody for a couple of months and two years later ask for advice to tell them how you feel if it wasn’t a _big deal_. Jen, are you blind?”

“I didn’t think it meant anything! It wasn’t until after the Inauguration—” Jen pauses, a sudden lump in her throat at the thought of Judy lying on a sterile table with her blood everywhere. “It wasn’t until after that, when I thought I could lose her, that I realized it was… more.”

Perez shifts slightly, angling her body more towards Jen. “Ma’am, this situation is obviously more complex than any of us originally thought—”

“You’re telling me you all have thought about this before?” Jen stares accusingly at them, waiting for someone to confess.

Nick runs a hand over his head. “We all just noticed a little bit of tension around you two is all.”

“Tension?”

“Yeah, we even had a little pool going—”

“Okay!” C.J. claps her hands together and stands. “Maybe we should take our leave now.”

Jen stands too, holding up a hand and furrowing her brow. “Wait a second, you guys had a _pool_ going?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a pool,” Christopher begins, “just a little bet amongst friends.”

“That is the definition of a betting pool, dickweed.”

“That one’s new.”

“Can we get back to the matter at hand,” Perez asks exasperatedly.

Before anyone can suggest a piece of advice Jen might actually use, the door connecting Jen’s office to Judy’s opens and the woman in question walks through, stopping abruptly at everyone gathered. “Is there a staff meeting I forgot about?”

Jen looks to the others for help, trying to hide the terror on her face. Perez catches her eye and stands quickly, “Yes, didn’t you get my email? We’re discussing the budget report.”

Judy frowns, “No, I don’t think I did. Is there something interesting about this specific budget report?”

“Severely in debt still, trying to figure out how to save the country,” Nick responds.

Jen knows Judy can tell something is up, but luckily she doesn’t press it anymore. Jen takes the opportunity to call and end to the advice column turned false meeting, hoping everyone will leave and she can be alone with her regrets. This has all been a bit much for her—realizing everyone close enough to her has some semblance of what Judy means to her, how much she cares.

Luckily everyone does leave, but she notices Judy lingering in the doorway. Jen steadfastly ignores her gaze, not ready to look at her with all of the thoughts coursing through her mind; she had no idea it was possible to love someone this much, so wholly. It scares her and gives her courage at the same time, a constant battle warring inside her chest, inside her heart. The first thing Jen thinks of in the morning—besides if the boys are up on time—is Judy. What she’s eating for breakfast and what she’s choosing to wear for the day; if she skips the café on the corner or risks it; whether or not she’s aware of how Jen feels about her. It’s become incapacitating, and Jen would worry her feelings for Judy are affecting her job if she wasn’t so good at compartmentalizing.

Jen’s breathing suddenly quickens, and she can’t get the idea of being with Judy out of her head. She wants to tell her— _needs_ to tell her—that she loves her, so fucking much. Before she even knows what she’s doing, Jen is racing across the Oval and pulling open the door to Judy’s office. It slams against the wall but Jen doesn’t stop to think about it, only looks at Judy who glances up in shock. The words are on the tip of Jen’s tongue, ready to be spilled forth and change both of their lives in one way or another—but she stops.

Judy is eating what looks to be a five-course meal for lunch, oblivious to Jen’s intentions. 

“Want some?”

Jen turns her head towards the Oval for a second, considering a quick escape, but turns back to Judy. “No, I… Where did you get that? I don’t remember the mess dishing out vegetarian lasagna.”

“Thank you for assuming it’s vegetarian! And no, they don’t. A new friend made it for me.”

“New friend? What new friend?” Jen hates how jealous she sounds, but she can’t stop herself. Judy hasn’t had a new friend since… god, probably since the first election. Serving the country doesn’t exactly allow much time for socializing, so Jen’s curiosity is more than piqued.

“Oh, she’s a chef down in the kitchen.”

“A chef? In my kitchen?”

“Yeah, her name’s Michelle. She’s new.”

Jen mentally recoils, “Right. I remember signing off on that. Haven’t had a chance to meet her yet.”

“You should! She’s great.”

“Right.”

Jen doesn’t offer anything else, too busy trying not to punch the wall or something, and Judy waits a few moments for her to say something else. When she doesn’t, “Did you need something?”

It’s not unkind, but Jen feels her anger flare anyways. Yeah, she needed to tell Judy she fucking loves her, but now she has to stand here and listen to Judy talk about how great this _Michelle_ is. With the last bit of composure she has left, Jen gives Judy some poor excuse of being late for a meeting and hightails it out of her office, swiftly closing the door behind her.

Jen isn’t really thinking but she knows what she’s doing, and that’s storming through the halls of the West Wing. She spies Nick walking ahead of her in the hallway and she catches up with him, grabbing his arm without looking and steering him towards the bullpen. Jen barely notices people stumbling over themselves trying to stand up as she walks by, too focused on the space in front of her. One foot forward, then the next, _no punching things_.

She sees C.J. next, about to pour herself a cup of coffee at one of the stations littered around this part of the White House. Jen grabs her in the same way she did Nick, absently noting that C.J. is quite clumsy for such a commanding woman and tall woman. She thanks her lucky stars as she navigates the three of them towards Perez’s office and sees Christopher already talking to her. Shoving Nick and C.J. into the office ahead of her and then signaling for the Secret Service agents following her to wait outside, Jen slams the door shut behind her.

“We need a new plan.” They all stare at her in shock, and Jen rolls her eyes. “About Judy.”

Perez stands slowly, “Did something happen, Madam President?”

Dejection suddenly merges with her anger, and Jen feels some of the fight drain out of her. She sags against the wall and crosses her arms, trying to put the words together in her mind before she speaks them. “I went to go see Judy after you guys left. I felt like I had to tell her, like I was keeping a secret from her. But then when I got in there she was eating a five-course fucking meal that some _Michelle_ had made for her down in the kitchen.”

“Was it really five-course?”

“Christopher, the only reason you’re still alive is because you saved the education bill.”

“What did you say to her then?”

Jen turns towards Nick, “I didn’t say anything. I got really angry and then I… I came here.”

C.J. takes a step towards Jen. “So you didn’t tell her?”

Jen shakes her head, “I couldn’t.”

It’s quiet until Christopher clears his throat; Jen rests her head against the wall of Perez’s office and waits. “I think it’s obvious you’re having trouble telling Judy how you feel, so why don’t you write her a letter?”

“A letter? What is this, sixth grade?”

“Hang on,” C.J. interrupts, “that’s not such a bad idea.”

Nick nods, “I agree. You don’t even have to give it to her if you don’t want. It could always just be practice.”

Jen pushes off the wall and moves towards the door, smiling softly. “That might be the best advice you guys have given all day. Thank you.”

Jen doesn’t wait for them to respond, just opens the door and heads back to the Oval, already writing the paragraphs in her head she wants to tell Judy. Syntax with meaning, sentences filled with the things she’s always wanted to say and never has. She’s loved Judy for a long time and pages won’t be enough; Jen could write a novel on the things about Judy that reels her in, so much that it takes her breath away to think about it all. She would cringe at herself for being so soft if she wasn’t so wrapped up in it.

Making her way to the Residence under the guise of a quick nap, Jen rushes into her study and finds a loose sheet of paper and a stray pen. Somehow, it all begins to pour out of her—every reason why she loves Judy, everything she wants for. Jen puts her heart out on the table and hopes it transfers to the paper, trying to find the right words to explain it all. When her hand is cramping and her eyes are damp, Jen sits back and looks at the letter she’s written, hoping it will be enough.

_Judy,_

_I don’t know where to begin. I just know this has to end. I know you think you’re merely a best friend, a close confidant, but you’ve been more than that for a long time now. Ever since we met, you have been the best friend I’ve ever known. The best person I’ve ever known. You are a better mother to Charlie and Henry than I ever could be, and I thank you for what you’ve done since Ted died. I know they may not be the kids I know you’ve always dreamed of, but I’m hoping you will find it in your enormous heart to take care of them along with me, by my side._

_I’m so sorry I’ve kept this from you for so long, but I love you. I should be sorry for loving you, but I’m not. I’ve known for a while now and I kept trying to find ways to tell you, but there’s no easy way to tell the love of your life they are the love of your life. I can only hope you feel the same way, but every day I wait the more I start to doubt you ever could. I don’t think I deserve you, but I do know I want you. Almost more than anything else I’ve ever wanted. I think you might be it for me, and I only wish to be enough for you. God, that makes me sound like such a sap. Anyways._

_I love you more than wine. Thank you for loving me and our boys._

_–Jen_

_._

The letter stays in the top drawer of the desk in Jen’s study in the Residence of the White House, far away from the hands of the person Jen wants on it most. There’s not a day she doesn’t think about giving it to Judy, but she’s never gotten so far as taking it out of the room, rarely out of the drawer. Some nights she’ll just open it, stare at her own handwriting on the folded front. _Judy_.

It gets harder and harder to stop from reaching out, always reaching for Judy like she’s an extension of Jen herself. What she cannot say with words, she tries to communicate with touch. A hand on the shoulder there, a quick hug before the night ends here. It’s not unusual, their friendship has always contained physical affection because of Judy’s inclination towards it, but it means so much more now than it did before.

At least to Jen.

Judy has yet to comment on it, so Jen thinks she’s not bringing too much attention to her feelings for now. Michelle has only been mentioned once since Judy first told Jen about her—much to the relief of Jen—and it was to inform Jen that there had been a few sparks but Michelle was already in a relationship with a secretary up on the Hill. Jen comforted her, played the good friend and did her best to not yell at Judy _Hey! I’m right here and I love you!_

Once upon a time Jen thought she was of the ballsy type, but love has revealed to her yet another part of herself she hadn’t known: she was a fucking pussy. She’s the President of the United States, the leader of the free world, the Commander in Chief—and she can’t even tell the woman she loves that she _loves_ her. Three simple words that become anything but simple when stringed together, ruling over Jen’s brain every time Judy is around or she’s not busy trying to handle some impending disaster. Between hurricanes and moving troops and budget deficits, Jen amazes herself by still finding the time to agonize over her love for her Chief of Staff—the person helping her through it all.

C.J. and Perez’s wedding plans don’t help much, igniting a certain envy within Jen she didn’t know she possessed. How wonderful it is, to see two women celebrating their love; it makes Jen ache with the need to hold Judy close, to promise themselves to each other. After Ted died, Jen didn’t think she was ever going to do that again. She swore off love, never thought she would find it again, but if she’s being honest she found it long before that. Judy Hale waltzed into her life like hell on wheels and never left much to Jen’s surprise. All these years, all these trials and tribulations, and the one constant has always been Judy.

Weeks pass and the days begin sweltering, the last of D.C. snow melting away along with Jen’s resolve. Cory tells her they located the person sending the threatening emails, interrogating him before he stands trial. Jen is relieved by the news, but more alert. Judy won't have extra protection anymore and Jen is half tempted to make her move into the White House. She doesn't though. 

The wedding is set to be in the East Wing, Jen immediately offering up the ballroom and settling for nothing less. As the date approaches, Jen gets more and more nervous; she has the strange sense she won’t be able to stop herself from doing something stupid. Surrounded by love and joy and the sent of Judy might drive her to just… proclaim her love right there in front of all the world to see. Literally.

But then again, there’s the letter. Jen could simply hand it over to Judy, giving all of herself with it. But the last year and a half of their time in the White House makes her hesitate; what if Judy doesn’t love her the same and she leaves? Jen doesn’t think she could do this without Judy, _knows_ she couldn’t. Losing her is not an option—never has been—and it’s that risk that stops Jen every time the thought of Judy becomes a little too much. Jen couldn’t get through this life without Judy by her side, she knows that, but now it’s all become a question of _how_ Judy will be living by her side.

.

There is little fanfare for C.J. and Perez’s wedding despite the fact that it’s being held in the White House. A few dignitaries comes that the two can actually stand the presence of, but for the most part it remains intimate and quaint. It’s so very… _them_ , and Jen couldn’t be happier for both. She doesn’t get a moment alone with Judy until the reception, the day full of people celebrating and Jen running back and forth between the festivities and the Oval Office; the country stops for no one unfortunately.

There’s tables astutely placed all over with name cards, Secret Service agents adorning the walls and blending in with the decorations. Chatter fills the room, a slight buzz of bliss underneath the current of the music filtering throughout the ballroom. Jen downs her first glass of champagne in one gulp and stands from her seat, eyeing Judy by the bar and admiring her for a second. She’s wearing a dress that falls all the way to the floor, high necked but low backed. It’s a deep, velvet red—like merlot—and Jen can’t take her eyes off her. Raising her glass to her lips but quickly remembering it’s gone, Jen sighs and makes her way over to the bar, giving herself a mental pep talk along the way.

Judy has just finished a conversation with the Secretary of Treasury and Jen sidles up next to her. “You come here often?” Jen turns slightly and winces at her words, embarrassed by her own lameness.

“A little too often, if you ask me.”

Judy smiles knowingly and Jen feels the breath leave her lungs because of it. Jen marvels every day that she can look upon Judy and find something new to love about her. She’s so full of life, possessing a capability of finding the good in everything that Jen has never been able to do. It’s why Jen needs her so badly—both in the office and the bedroom if she’s being honest—and her hand twitches with the want to pull Judy closer. Her mouth is ahead of her mind apparently, and she asks Judy if she wants to have a drink somewhere quieter before she even knows she had the idea.

She lets herself fall a step behind Judy all the way to the Residence and into her private study, eyes lingering on the expanse of skin she’s allowed to bear witness to, wanting to run her fingers along the fine lines moving with every step Judy takes. Jen feels like parts of her are breaking open as she follows Judy into the depths of the place she calls home; the tissue and marrow within her is slowly unraveling in the wake of Judy and everything she is. It only gets harder for her to concentrate when the door to the study is firmly shut behind them, Judy’s fingers wrapped tightly around a bottle of wine Jen keeps handy. She feels out of her depth and she lets herself get lost in the waves, absentmindedly watching Judy carve out yet another space to fit seamlessly in the places Jen feels alone.

She faintly hears Judy ask where the bottle opener is but it takes her too long to comprehend the question and Judy is holding the letter in her hands before Jen can answer _the bookshelf_. Judy has questions all over her face but Jen can’t answer any of them because it’s as if all the air has been sucked out of the room and she suddenly feels trapped. Judy was never supposed to see that letter— but there she is, holding it in hands Jen has longed to touch hold.

This is it, this is the moment Jen has both waited for and wished would never happen. She can’t leave this room without giving Judy an explanation and there is only one that she can give without fully succumbing to the guilt that lives inside her. She’s absolutely terrified and the words are stuck in her throat and she feels like she might start crying, but there’s also a part of Jen that knows she can do this. There has always been an untamed wild thing inside her that she has fought to control for years, but this might be the one time she can let it out. The consequences are still weighing her down, but this moment feels pivotal and Jen is the only one who can change the direction of their lives—so she lets it out. She lets the frustration and the hurt and the stress and the love flare up inside her and spill forth into this space between her and the woman she loves.

Turning on her heel to get a break from the look in Judy’s eyes, Jen takes a breath before revealing her truth. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Jen turns back around in time to see Judy’s face morph into confusion and something like hurt. “Do what?”

“The thing where we pretend nothing happened and I pretend I’m not in love with you.” A silence sits between them as the words linger in the air, and Jen waits with bated breath. Everything has come down to this and whatever may happen next, she’s proud of herself for this.

“What are you talking about? You don’t…” Judy trails off as her expressions try to settle on one emotion, but never quite getting there.

Jen takes a step forward but keeps herself far enough away to run because old habits die hard. She tries to crumble the walls that have kept Judy in the dark for so long and let it all show on her face, in her eyes—just how much she loves her. “I tried so hard not to, believe me, but by the time I knew… God, you’re like a fucking plant thing that just like, keeps fucking growing every possible second and you just pull things closer to you until they can’t fucking leave. I never stood a fucking chance with you, Judes. I love you.”

“I don’t know what to say, Madam President.”

Jen winces at Judy’s words, something inside her falling apart as she takes in how uncomfortable Judy looks. “Please, don’t call me that right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I just… I don’t know.”

“Are you, um, sure?”

“That I’m in love with you? Yeah, Judy, I’m sure.” Jen scoffs and paces a little bit, willing herself to not rip apart a book or collapse on the couch pathetically. It’s silent for a few moments and Jen thinks she might just do both.

“How long have you known?”

Jen hesitates, so unused to revealing the vulnerable parts of herself. She looks up, pretending to calculate the amount of time she’s belonged to Judy but knowing full well just how long. “Uh, well, about a year.”

Judy starts, voice slightly raised in a way Jen has never heard it before. “A _year_?”

Jen shrugs and tries to look repentant, “I realized after, um, after the Inauguration. When you were in the hospital.”

“Oh.” Judy’s eyes flit back and forth a little and Jen knows she’s trying to work through the memories, trying not to let herself drown in them. She looks back at Jen with her brows furrowed, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“To be fair, we had just decided it couldn’t work between us, and we weren’t doing anything more than fucking at that point. Didn’t think telling you about my undying love would do either of us any good.”

“Madam President—”

“I will call Congress back into session right now and I will hand in my resignation to the Speaker of the fucking House if you call me ‘Madam President’ one more time.”

“I’m sorry, it’s a habit!” Judy throws her hands up in a truce and tries to fight a smile, but Jen chuckles to let her know it’s okay. It’s a moment of levity they both needed.

“I know, I just want it to be _us_ right now.”

“Jen, you’re still the President and I’m still Chief of Staff.”

“And what if I want you as more than my Chief of Staff?”

“Did you really think it was ever just sex for us?”

Jen gulps, taken aback by the softness in Judy’s tone and the look of affection in her eyes. “You’re not supposed to answer a question with a question,” she whispers. Judy smiles sweetly and closes the gap between them, and Jen can feel the way their body heat melds together. Slowly—too slowly for Jen’s liking—Judy reaches a hand up to Jen’s face and traces the line of her jaw, reverence in her touch. It overwhelms Jen and she never wants Judy to stop touching her, but she needs to know.

“Judy?”

“I’m in love with you too.”

Part of her expected it, but Jen can’t help the surprise she feels. “Seriously?”

Judy giggles—honest to god _giggles_ —and Jen never wants this moment to end. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“I come with a lot of baggage.”

Judy runs her hands down Jen’s arms comfortingly, “I’m strong, and I come with my own baggage.”

“But—”

“Jen, I’ve known you for twenty years. You think I don’t know what I’m getting myself into?”

It’s all Jen has wanted to hear for the past year and she vibrates with relief and the need to rid the last inches of space between their lips, but she is still a pragmatist and she wants this figured out before she kisses Judy with everything she is. “If we do this and it gets out, people will think I chose you for the job because you’re good in bed, not because you’re qualified.”

“Well, I’m both qualified _and_ good in bed,” Judy smirks.

“Jude, I’m serious—”

“I’m willing to figure this out with you, Jen.”

“How are you so confident?”

“Because I’ve loved you since you kissed me in my office all those years ago. Well, I think I’ve actually loved you longer than that, but that was when I knew.”

Jen can’t help it, the tears fall of their own volition. She feels whole, like the spaces Judy carved out in her are filled up with love and something so… pure. She allows this moment of tenderness, mimics Judy’s touches on her own face and traces the laugh lines she watched appear, knowing she put one or two there herself. Jen moves her hand to the back of Judy’s neck and pulls her closer, achingly slow. They won’t ever get this moment again and she wants this to last, wants Judy to know just how much she means this.

The kiss isn’t fireworks—it’s a torrential downpour. Judy moves beautifully against her and Jen keeps pulling, wanting more and more and _more_. It’s so different from any other time they’ve done this and Jen finds herself cataloguing all the variances, delighting in the way she is both fulfilled and aroused, content and craving; she could stand here and kiss Judy like this all night and never tire. They’re breathing heavily and Jen might pass out but she doesn’t care, because this is what she’s wanted for so long and she finally has it. Judy is here with her and wants her just as much as Jen wants Judy, and the rest of the White House is filled with people they love who are celebrating different things tonight. Somewhere out there, something is going wrong; there’s a disaster waiting for relief, but Jen is going to let herself stand here a while longer.

The reception is the same when they rejoin everyone in the ballroom but Jen is different; she feels alive and whole, not dreading the next shoe to drop for once. She’s always had Judy by her side to help her wade through the wreckage that passes through the White House, but now she actually _has_ Judy.

It’s another few hours before the reception even begins to die down; both Henry and Charlie already made their way to their rooms and Jen is pretty sure she saw Charlie smirking at her on his way out, blushing when she realized he was eyeing the way Judy imperceptibly kept angling her body towards Jen ever since they came back from their impromptu love confession in the study. She’ll sit down with the boys and Judy later, answering any questions that may come up—even the difficult ones. Jen can almost picture it, the way Judy will grab her hand in silent support and smile at her softly to let her know everything will be okay.

The final dance of the night is announced and Jen barely registers the opening notes of “Never My Love” draining out of the speakers before Judy is grabbing her hand and pulling her onto the dance floor. She protests weakly, insisting _the President of the United States doesn’t dance_ , but Judy claiming _Jennifer Harding does_. It’s cheesy and so very Judy, and Jen gives up the fake fight and just gathers Judy in her arms—relishing the way Judy lays her head down on Jen’s shoulder as they sway slowly. She catches C.J. and Perez staring at them, Christopher and Nick eyeing them from where they sit at a table sipping on some sort of cocktail—and they wink and pump their fists in the air. Jen rolls her eyes and ignores them, but secretly savors their support and opts not to flip them off—just this once. 

The song ends and final goodbyes of the night are made, and Jen feels her face burning the entire time the Senior Staff stands in a circle and awkwardly tries not to bring attention to the obvious reconciliation between her and Judy—which just ends up making it more obvious. Jen can’t even bring herself to be annoyed though, because she knows she wouldn’t be here without any of them. She’ll just superglue their desk drawers shut later or something.

Jen doesn’t even need to ask Judy if she wants to join her in the Residence tonight, and she knows it’s because of the unspoken language they’ve always possessed; she’s grateful it transfers from matters of State to the bedroom.

The lights are off in her room and she doesn’t turn them on, but she cracks the curtains so a pale sliver of moonlight illuminates the room just enough to take in the way Judy is looking at her. The air between them is charged and they both know how this night will end—and Jen finally understands why everyone says it’s about the journey and not the destination. Judy is the miles Jen has walked aimlessly, ones she will continue to walk if it means she never has to say goodbye to Judy again and feel like it’s forever.

They stay silent as they undress each other—slowly pulling down zippers and reverently unbuttoning clasps—but they giggle when Jen trips over herself trying to take off her socks and Judy’s dress is flung across the room and knocks over a pile of papers haphazardly stacked on a side table. It’s quiet moments of elation, both tender and suggestive—and this all feels like the thing Jen has yearned for throughout her life but never thought she would have.

The room rises in temperature when Judy grabs her face and kisses her, bruising but oh so good. They collapse on the bed with a huff and another giggle, but Judy’s abruptly turns into a moan when Jen starts kissing her neck, trailing a line down her abdomen and never stopping until Judy’s moans turn into pleading whimpers. Jen thought she had experienced gratification before, but never has she felt as satisfied as she does when Judy clenches her entire body around her; she is surrounded by Judy in every way it counts and she wants to spend the rest of her life like this.

They’re both flushed and breathless when Jen kisses her way back up Judy’s body, trying to find a way to transfer all of the emotions inside of her onto the planes underneath her lips—trying to immortalize herself in the way this woman moves. Judy unabashedly tastes herself on Jen’s tongue and it draws a groan from Jen, and Judy has her on her back in a second. The way Judy runs her hands all over Jen’s body, as if she was something to worship, has their breathing turning ragged. It’s familiar but startling new, and Jen thinks she might scream before Judy even actually touches her.

But when she does… it’s like Jen is floating. Judy’s hands feel the same on her—muscle memory guiding them the way Jen likes it—but there is so much more sitting underneath the surface. Their first time was full of passion and lust and sacrilege, a need to finally know what the other one feels like with nothing between them—but this time feels like they are creating their own religion. When Jen comes it is because Judy is expertly working her hand and not taking her eyes off of Jen’s face, like she’s trying to catalogue every twitch and flicker; mouthing _I love you_ like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.

.

It’s quite impressive there are still rooms in the White House that haven’t been christened by them Jen thinks, with how much her and Judy can’t seem to stop touching each other. C.J. was right—her and Judy are the worst kept secret in the White House because almost no one appears to bat an eyelash at the fact that her and Judy are a lot _closer_ these days. Only the Senior Staff and a select few Senior Assistants are privy to the actual confirmation—sworn to secrecy as much as they can be without signing a nondisclosure agreement—but Jen doesn’t feel the need to watch her behavior around Judy anymore beyond the obvious need for professionalism when in the office. Jen’s the President anyways, she can do what she wants.

Telling Charlie and Henry was a different matter entirely, consisting of a very long and uncomfortable question and answer session mostly moderated by Henry. Charlie was mainly unsurprised and Jen has to applaud him for his observational skills, but Henry is younger and apparently very concerned with the way this will affect the family dynamic— _will we still have_ _Sundays with Judy? Can I tell my friends I have two moms? Will she join us for family dinners?_

It was exhausting but Jen was right—Judy held her hand and smiled the entire time—and she was ultimately relieved by the boys’ acceptance and their understanding that Judy would never try to replace their father. They knew that of course, but Jen and Judy wanted to make sure they heard it from the two of them.

Little pockets of anxiety bubble up from time to time for both of them, though. It’s inevitable—they have so much history and it feels like they’ve been down this road before—but the assurances come at night encased in soft whispers and gentle touches. No, they’re not moving too fast. Yes, Jen is ready for love again, if she ever really had it before. No, they will not let this affect their jobs. Yes, it is love—wholly and irrevocably. The anxiety always fades, and Jen thinks it makes them stronger in the end, when they come out on the other side of it. She worried for so long about what would happen if she told Judy about her feelings, how it would probably change their lives forever, but the only regret she can ever find when she searches her brain at night is that she didn’t tell Judy sooner.

The leaves on the trees surrounding the White House are turning an amber shade of gold when Henry approaches them with a serious face. It’s a Saturday and their jobs have allowed both Jen and Judy a semi-relaxing afternoon watching a movie in the Residence. Henry walks in the open door and sits down and stares at them for a moment, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. Jen mutes the television as her and Judy give him their full attention and wait for him to speak. 

“I have a question.”

“What is it, Boop?”

“Can I… is it okay if I call Judy ‘Mom?’”

Silence settles as Jen’s jaw drops in surprise, chancing a look at Judy who is trying so hard to not cry. Jen takes pity on her and answers, “If Judy is okay with it, then I don’t see why not.” She grabs Judy’s hand to both tell her she needs to say something and offer love.

Judy clears her throat but her words are still strained when she answers, “I would be honored, Henry. Come here.”

Henry smiles widely and climbs into Judy’s lap for a hug, and watching them makes Jen feel like her heart is going to burst. This is the best thing she’s ever done, she thinks, somehow managing to bring everyone in her life together and able to witness everything they behold.

.

The bubble they’ve been living in pops on a cloudy November morning. It’s still dark outside when Jen faintly registers a knock on her bedroom door. Reaching out to only find a cold space next to her, she remembers Judy slept at her place last night. She yells a croaky _come in_ and the door opens to reveal Perez.

“Sorry to wake you, Madam President, but it’s urgent.”

Jen sits up, more awake now. “Is it Syria?”

“No, I don’t have any updates on that yet.”

“Then why the fuck are you waking me up at,” Jen pauses and glances at the clock on her nightstand, blearily reading the time, “at five in the morning?”

Instead of answering, Perez hands her today’s copy of _The Washington Post_. The first thing she notices is a picture of her and Judy posing for a camera at some event from earlier this year, displayed across the front page and above the fold. It takes a little longer to blink the sleep out of her eyes enough to read the headline, “President Harding and Chief of Staff Judy Hale, Lovers?”

“For fuck's sake.”

She’s in the Oval Office in twenty minutes later and the rest of the Senior Staff is already there—including Judy—all nursing large cups of coffee and terrified looks on their faces. They seem to be waiting for Jen to take charge, but she has no idea what the fuck to do. This is unprecedented and she’s still trying to figure out how the fuck this happened. They’ve been so careful not to fuck this up before the next election, wanting to focus on their work as much as they can before they leave office forever. They hardly told anybody and they kept it very far away from the press room—are they just that obvious? Can people see whatever it is between them, floating through the air as if it was something tangible?

“Well, there’s only so much I can do for damage control. I can try to spin it but I’m not sure how much good that will do. We’re on defense right now,” C.J. remarks.

“Did the person who wrote it work in the White House press room?”

C.J. shakes her head no. “He’s filled in for Karen a few times but that’s it.”

“And we don’t know how much he knows? Or if he even knows anything?”

Nick turns to Judy, “There’s not much proof in the article. Easy to conclude he’s operating under carefully observed assumptions.”

“Well he has to have something or there’s no way his editor would have put it on the front page of _The Post_ ,” Perez remarks.

Jen wants to scream but she doesn’t. This is the very thing her and Judy have been studiously trying to avoid since the wedding; everything is still so new and precious, and the slightest predicament with the press could ruin it all. “So what are our options? Deny and wait for it to move on? Or confess and deal with the fall out?”

“I honestly think it’s up to you, ma’am,” Christopher pipes up, “and either way there’s going to be hell to get through.”

Jen looks at Judy, finding an empathetic sort of pain on her face. Judy looks back at her and Jen can see as plain as day what she wants, what she would choose if she were in Jen’s position. There’s such vulnerability in her eyes, like she’s willing to risk everything, and Jen wants to look away out of habit—but she doesn’t. She forces herself to look at Judy and decide what’s going to happen next.

Jen turns back to the rest of the staff with determination. “Clear your schedules for today if you can, I want all hands on deck for this. C.J., organize a press conference for tonight with all major networks on a live feed. Nick and Christopher, you’ll sit down with me and come up with a statement. Judy and Perez… go fix world hunger or something, I don’t know.”

“Easy enough,” Judy responds, turning towards Perez with a smirk.

Everyone leaves to start their day of reckoning and fill up on more coffee, but Jen asks Judy to stay for a second. “I think I know what you want to do.”

“And what would that be?”

“You don’t want to deny this, do you?”

Judy softens and walks over to Jen’s desk. “I want whatever you want. You’re the one who runs the country.”

“This affects both of us, Judy.”

“I know that, but you are the one it falls on. I understand your decision either way and I love you no matter what. Would I love to shout my love for you from rooftops? Of course, but I don’t have to.”

Jen chuckles, thankful for the flippancy Judy provides. “I don’t need you to shout from roof tops.”

“I would, though.”

The moment grows serious again when Jen notices the sincerity and longing in Judy’s voice. “I know you would.”

“What do you want, Jen” Judy whispers despite them being the only two in the room.

“You,” she answers simply.

“You have me. What is it you want to do, though?”

“I don’t know, Judy. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” Jen rubs a hand over her face, trying to figure out if she can schedule in a nap later.

“Well I do. I know what I need to do.”

Jen’s head shoots back up at Judy’s words, panic flaring up. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m going to resign.”

“What? Judy, _no_ —”

“ _Yes_ , Jen. Let me do this. It’s easier for me to do it than you, and you still have so much more you want to get done before you leave the White House.”

Jen balks, trying to comprehend what Judy is saying. “But I need you to help me. I asked you to be my Chief of Staff for a reason Judy, I can’t just let you resign.”

Judy’s face morphs into steely determination, grabbing Jen’s hand and gripping it tightly. “You can and you will. I’ve already thought about this and I’m going to whether or not you agree with it. I love this job, but I love you more. I can fix this, so let me fix it.”

Jen shakes her head, “I can’t let you resign, Jude. Your life’s work has always been helping people.”

“And I will still be able to do that outside of the White House.”

“What if you end up resenting me for it? I couldn’t take that, Judy.” Jen is terrified by thought and she lets it show on her face, trying to tell Judy just how much she means it.

“I won’t.”

“But how do you know that?”

“Because I do. I’m not going to resent you, Jen. I need you to trust me.”

Jen studies the earnest look in her eyes, trying to find any trace amounts of anger or blame. She can’t though, and she’s amazed once again by Judy’s capacity to fully give herself up for the good of others. She grips Judy’s hand back and relents, nodding as an idea forms in her head. She does trust Judy, and now she’s going to need Judy to trust her.

Jen thinks she might throw up. She’s never been this nervous about anything in her entire life. She’s convinced she’s fully gone off the rails, balls to wall crazy. This is the craziest thing she’s ever done and she’s ran for fucking _office_. There’s no remorse or shame or guilt though, she knows this is the right choice for everyone involved. The entire day has consisted of lengthy conversations about what this will mean and how things will change, and she has arrived at the same conclusion every single time—this is it, this is what needs to happen. She’s apprehensive but Nick and Christopher pulled out the big guns for this statement, and she’s more confident with their words to rely on. Judy is a giver at heart and it has led to her downfall before, and Jen will be damned if she’s the reason for another one. She just hopes this doesn’t end up biting her in the ass.

The motorcade pulls up outside the building where the press conference is being held and Jen feels another wave of nausea roll over her. She should’ve taken something—it wouldn’t be good for the President to throw up on national television trying to make an announcement like this. It’s like she’s in a daze as she’s herded towards the stage, the podium waiting for her ominously. It’s where her entire life is about to change.

C.J. introduces her and the entire room is on their feet as Jen makes her way on stage, momentarily blinded by the stage lights and the constant flashing of cameras. The fluttering is back in her stomach and she grips the edge of the podium tightly as the teleprompter gains her attention. She takes a calming breath and begins.

“Today it was reported that my Chief of Staff, Judy Hale, and I are in a romantic relationship. There was no substantive evidence in these claims and the author of the article operated under assumption. Before I address these rumors, I would like to say that it is news like this that damages people’s livelihoods. Journalism is supposed to be based on fact, not opinion. The public should be concerned with matters of importance, not trivial gossip. However, I do understand that as one of the most public figures in the country, privacy is not something I am afforded. But Ms. Hale deserves more privacy, as do my children, because this affects them too. So I hope from here on out all publications will take my words into consideration before they decide to publish another article like this one on their front page.”

Jen pauses and scans the room before continuing. She spots Judy off to the side, watching her, and Jen feels anchored. “But in this specific case, the rumors are true. Ms. Hale and I entered a romantic relationship earlier this year,” Jen pauses again at the stirring of the crowd and holds a hand up to signal she’s not finished, “and we decided it was in the best interest of ourselves, our children, and our staff to keep it private. We did not intend on going public with this information so soon, but we were given no choice in the matter. I do not believe in lying to the American public, and I do not intend to start doing so today. Both Ms. Hale and I are aware of the mistakes we made and in order to rectify the situation, Ms. Hale has decided to resign from her position as White House Chief of Staff. Ana Perez, former Deputy Chief of Staff will assume her position immediately and we will find a replacement Deputy in the coming weeks.”

Jen looks back up again as the teleprompter signals the end of the official statement and every reporter in the crowd has a hand raised. The lights are somehow brighter and Jen can feel herself starting to sweat, more nervous now than ever. Jen finds Judy in the crowd again; she’s leaning against the wall, distinct in her long dress and blazer. It reminds Jen of a morning so long ago, in her first term. Maybe that’s when she really fell in love and she just didn’t know it yet. Before she turns back to the crowd, she notices Judy give a thumbs up, mouthing a silent _I love you_. It simultaneously lights a fire inside Jen—Judy usually does that when they’re in bed together, always timing it perfectly with Jen’s release somehow—and fluffs her insides with joyous resolve. Judy doesn’t even know, but that’s all Jen needed to do what’s coming next.

Hands are still raised and _Madam President_ is consistently shouted throughout the room, but Jen raises her hand again to quiet everyone down. Only C.J., Perez, Nick, and Christopher know what’s coming next, and out of the corner of her eye Jen can see them lining the wall opposite Judy with identical looks of support mixed with apprehension.

Jen clears her throat and forces herself to look at the cameras instead of Judy. “Ms. Hale is a better Chief of Staff than I could have ever asked for and has done so much to help better this country, and for that I thank her. She has dedicated her life to helping others and building a world for future generations to thrive in, to fix the mistakes ours has caused. Her resignation as Chief of Staff is not only a loss for me, but for the country—although I have no doubt Ana Perez will flourish in her newfound responsibilities and leadership opportunities.”

Jen looks at Judy now, addressing her directly. _This_ is it, the moment she has waited for. She notices a camera pan to Judy’s face and hopes this goes well. “I know you’ve dedicated your life to the greater good, and I blame myself for taking that away from you. But I hope to give you a different opportunity to stand by my side and help me change the world.” Jen sees the faint confusion on Judy’s face and barrels forward. “Judy Ann Hale, I am asking you to marry me. To be my First Lady and continue the good you started as Chief of Staff.”

The entire room seems to hold its breath along with Jen, and this is the quietest it’s been since Jen walked on stage. Judy has gone from confused to shocked, opening and closing her mouth as she stares back at Jen. It feels like an eternity waiting for her answer, but Jen knows she would wait double that for Judy if it meant the answer would be yes. Judy pushes off the wall and takes a few steps forward, hand suspended in midair like she wants nothing more than to touch Jen. Their eyes never waver from each other, and even from this far away Jen can see the moment the shock subsides and Judy makes her decision. She’s too far away to hear it properly, but she hears it anyways—like Judy is standing right next to her the way Jen has always wanted her to, like she finally will.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will she write an epilogue? who's to say


End file.
